


Coulda Shoulda Woulda (But You Didn't)

by DisappearingKangaroo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bruce Banner Has A Heart, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Comfort, Dum-E Being cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Bruce, Hurt Bruce Banner, Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this because infinity war killed me, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, Not really Cap friendly, Recovery, References to Depression, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Self-Harm, Sick Bruce, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, all the bots have good relationships, literally everyone needs a hug, more than just "bros" am i right, shitty parenting, this is my recovery fic too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappearingKangaroo/pseuds/DisappearingKangaroo
Summary: As Tony grabs his small flat-head screwdriver Friday cuts through the music and announces, “Boss, you have an incoming call.”Groaning, and not afraid to show his annoyance, Tony asks, “Who’s it from?”“It appears to be arriving from Dr. Banner’s person cell phone.”That stops Tony dead in his tracks. “Fri, cut the music.”Or,In which Bruce/Hulk didn't leave the planet and Bruce hides out in India while the Civil War is going on, but greatly regrets his decision. Why not fall into his old habits?Note: This story contains self-harm and alcoholism, but mostly focuses on friendship (possible something more than that ;) ) between Tony and Bruce and their recovery.Disclaimer: Characters not mine, because if they were Infinity War would've been a loooooooooooot different.





	1. Decisions, Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Back on the writing train! Choo Choo (let's be honest it's probably not even gonna leave the station am I right though) So anyway this is my recovery fic because according (god I hate that word now) to my therapist writing out personal situations can help me hash them out in real life. Little does she know that I write fanfics and love to torture my wonderful fictional babies.
> 
> Anyway, this is dedicated to Amber, whose birthday is in a few days! Yay!
> 
> Warnings: Self-Harm & Alcoholism. If you're triggered by these than FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T READ IT; YOUR HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THIS STUPID PIECE OF FANFICTION
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, because if they were Infinity War would've gone a looooooooot differently.

Bruce had watched the news. Parts of it, anyway. 

_...The Avengers have been split down the middle in the Accords…” _

Since he came to Europe, he really didn’t try to focus on what he had left back in America. It wasn’t important to him anymore, the Hulk wasn’t needed. And no one particularly wants a not-that-kind-of-doctor/scientist. Besides, there’s more heroes to help civilians now. Heroes that don’t destroy buildings in the process.

... _ New superhero in New York, calling himself, ‘Spider-Man’... _

Maybe if he stayed Tony Stark would appreciate him. Eh. Probably not. The man had too much to worry about.

_...Stark Foundation has payed for  _ all  _ of the damages in the past few battles, but billionaire Tony Stark still refuses to speak about it… _

Maybe Bruce will stop by once he’s sure none of the government is looking for him. Maybe he can fake his death? Or actually die?

_...Asgardian God, Thor Odin has left Earth, and has not been seen since. None of the Avengers have any word on it… _

To Bruce, it’s incredible how he can just simply watch the world revolve. It’s like watching a TV show almost. He just sits there and lets the world keep on turning while he silently watches, not daring to do anything to disturb it.

_...Esteemed Surgeon, Stephen Strange in horrific car accident… _

Of course he’s in his own little world too. Rural India is a hell of a place. He met some nice young girls that he pays to get things from the market. He doesn’t want to Hulk-out in a place like the market. It’s good. It really is. Until one of the girls seemingly disappears.

_...Anonymous tip-off leads officials to drug cartel and human trafficking in western India earlier this day… _

The first Hulk-out in a new place is always the worst. Luckily he didn’t hurt anyone, but the entire ‘home’ he had is destroyed. The surviving girl asks him if he got robbed, and Bruce quickly nods. It doesn’t feel like lying. It feels like he was robbed of his humanity.

_...Past Doctor, Stephen Strange now reported as missing, and some are even calling it foul play… _

_...Any information on the wherabouts of Doctor Bruce Banner can and should be reported to the nearest official… _

_...The death toll from the Avengers has risen even further, causing some people to fear the beloved heroes… _

For a few days the only thing Bruce saw on the little television set on the outskirts of the market were the Avengers. Or, lack thereof.

_...Fight in Germany… _

_...Airport completely destroyed… _

_...All destruction paid off by Stark… _

_...Thaddeus Ross calling the stop of the Avengers… _

_...Organized something called the ‘Accords’... _

_...All of this meant to keep the Avengers in their place, after decimating civilian’s homes, and even their families… _

The not-that-kind-of-doctor can tell when everything begins to go downhill. He should go help. He really should. Maybe if he went and helped this new kid, ‘Spider-Man-’ wouldn’t of had to go fight in the big leagues.

_...There seems to be some sort of disturbance while deciding the Accor- Oh God!... _

_...Casualties from the meeting that was going to decide the Accords… _

That night Bruce goes to bed and thinks of one word only, ‘Accords’. ‘Course, he doesn’t know that a hop, skip and a continent away his old lab buddy flies over another night of rest because of the same word.

Accords.

_ Accords. _

Accords.

_...Breaking news… _

_...King of Wakanda… _

_...Dead on scene.... _

_...Just one of many important figures… _

Mutely, Bruce knows he’s torturing himself every day when he goes to the edge of the market to crowd around the small set along with the rest of the locals. But it’s not like it’s any better or worse than staying away from everyone.

Yesterday the other girl died of TB.

The Hulk-out was predicticted. Only part of his makeshift home is destroyed.

At least he can say he goes to the market for another reason from now on.

_...Split up… _

_...Battle in Germany… _

_...Ant-Man making an appearance shown in this leaked photo... _

_...Destroyed property… _

The news article the really stood out the Bruce came but a day later.

_...Steve Rodgers, more commonly known as Captain America has left the Avengers. Along with half of the world’s mightiest heroes. A few civilians have started calling them the ‘Rouge Avengers’ and they seem to have taken the name. No word from Tony Stark or the CEO of his company, Virginia Potts… _

For some reason, Doctor Banner can’t tear his eyes off of the television each time he comes to the market. He knows it’s hurting him, each dark red headline revealing yet another death, and another piece of trust misplaced.

_...Leaked picture of Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, with a bruised face and a black eye, as well as a hand over his chest… _

_...Some speculate that none other than Steve Rodgers caused this… _

_...Civilians outraged at Stark for no information on the ‘Rouge Avengers’... _

_...Say the ‘Rouge Avengers’ caused the bruises… _

This picture of his bruised friend becomes the face of new reports for a solid two days.

_...People now believe that the hand over his chest was not meant to show love, but to rub his chest in pain… _

God, couldn’t the press mind their own business for a single second?

And finally the last big reports trickled out.

_ …‘Rouge Avengers under arrest… _

_...Still no word from Stark… _

_...Colonel James Rhodes officially honorably discharged after paralyzation from the waist down… _

_...Iron Man left and hasn’t come back… _

_...Siberia… _

_ Shield evidently embedded in the chest of Iron Man… _

No, Bruce thinks. Captain’s Shield wasn’t embedded in Iron Man’s chest. It was embedded in Tony Stark’s chest. The man who holds the record for most traumatic experiences, now how has his father’s shield in his chest.

Iron Man can heal from the wound.

Tony Stark can not.

_...Released from the hospital today… _

_...Wheel chair… _

_...Not taking questions at the moment… _

_...Scheduled press conference soon according to CEO, Virginia Potts… _

_...Stay tuned for more... _

All of the news anchors finished with the same, ‘More at eleven,’ or ‘More after the short break,’ or ‘More after the weather,’.

Always ending with ‘more’. Because there is always more, isn’t there? 

More people talking about how Tony Stark deserves more, and more people talking about how Tony Stark wronged his team. More on how Tony Stark is selfish.

Silently, Bruce thinks about how the same thing happened when he first revealed himself as Iron Man. He was the face of the press for ages. More about Tony’s trauma in Afghanistan, more about him ceasing weapons production, more about how Stane’s death affected him, and then more about Iron Man. Bruce doubts Tony got a single second without a camera inches from his face.

It’s that day, that Bruce decides that he’s made the wrong decision. 

Running off like a coward, was the wrong decision.

If he really cared for Tony and the team he would’ve stayed, would’ve helped, would’ve fixed it all.

Would’ve.

That’s the saying right?

Coulda Shoulda Woulda.

Or is it the other way around? 

Woulda Shoulda Coulda?

Bruce can never remember.

He’s not worrying about that right now though. No, he’s only worrying about the fact that he could’ve saved people, innocent lives, but instead he hid out like a coward. 

So he packs his bags and heads up to Russia.

Which turns into eastern Russia. Which turns into a boat to Alaska.

And somewhere along the way he realizes he’s too late.

Too late to save anyone.

So he takes his bowie knife and makes a decision.

If only those goddam hikers hadn’t found him. If they could’ve just taken a hike the other trail. If they could’ve decided that it was too difficult and turned around. If they couldn’t have found cell service.

Coulda Shoulda Woulda.

That’s the way it goes.

 

~

 

_ Alaska is close to Russia. _

Bruce thinks, while pulling his tattered jacket sleeves over the new bandages.

_ Actually, Alaska is closer to two different countries than the rest of continental US. Joke’s on Russia for selling it to us. There’s oil here. _

The scientist sits on the edge of a clean white bed that has been temporarily appointed his. He rubs and pulls at the large sleeves of the jacket and builds the courage to look at the probably disappointed nurse, who stands near the door.

In front the the door- to be exact. His attempt at getting out AMA had not been appreciated.

But when Bruce looks at her she doesn’t have disappointment etched onto her face. No, instead she has the same look everyone has: the type of pity that one would give a kicked puppy.

Bruce quickly looks back at his fiddling hands and quietly mumbles, “So when can I leave?”

With what can only be described as a sad sigh, the nurse replies, “According to protocols,” God, Bruce hates that word, “You can only leave when someone over the age of 18 comes to pick you up, or when the psychiatrists deem you fit enough to.”

Great.

“And if I leave AMA?” Bruce ponders.

“Oh sweetie. This isn’t my first rodeo, I’ve seen people like you. And I know exactly what you’ll do as soon as you waltz out of here. I know that you know why I’m standing here. I’m not gonna let you tear yourself apart.”

Blocking the door and preventing a patient from leaving. “That’s illegal,” Bruce mutters, but has zero force behind it.

“Mmhm. One hell of a nurse I am, right? Actually caring about the well being of my patients?” Then before Bruce can appreciate the rhetorical questions, she adds, “Now what’ll it be? Phone a friend or call in the psychiatrist?”

The anxious man, knowing when he’s been beat, pulls out his flip phone. Either the nurse doesn’t notice the early 2000s gadget, or doesn’t care, because she makes no comment about it.

Sighing a deep sigh, Bruce opens the phone and punches in the only number he bothers to remember.

\----------------------------

ACDC blasts into Tony Stark’s eardrums while Dum-E  and U attempt to help him, and fail miraculously at it.

“No, no,” Toy loudly sighs, “ _ Screwdriver, _ not  _ wrench _ ,” At this, Dum-E wheels around happily, certain he’s gotten the appropriate instrument. “You know what? Nevermind.” As Tony stands up to retrieve the actual screwdriver, he threatens to the bot, “It’s a miracle I haven’t shipped you to a community college yet.”

Dum-E replies with a sad whir (as sad as those sounds get), and his creator smirks and says, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Then, as Tony grabs his small flat-head screwdriver Friday cuts through the music and announces, “Boss, you have an incoming call.”

Groaning, and not afraid to show his annoyance, Tony asks, “Who’s it from?”

“It appears to be arriving from Dr. Banner’s person cell phone.”

That stops Tony dead in his tracks. “Fri, cut the music.”

“Sure, boss.”  _ Back in Black _ stops mid chorus, and Dum-E notices something off with his creator.

“Answer the call.” Friday doesn’t respond with her usual, Sure, boss, and the line is immediately opened.

“Bruce?” He cautiously asks, unsure of why the doctor is calling after months - no years - of his disappearing act.

There’s a few moments of silence before Bruce answers, “Uh Hi, Tony.”

“Hi Bruce,” Tony mirrors, and God is it good to hear his voice. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“Sort of.” Came the elegant response.

This does nothing to assuage Stark’s fears. “What? Where are you? Nevermind, I’ll track your location. I’m on my way now, don’t move.”

Attempting to save the engineer some trouble, Bruce replies, “I’m in Alaska. Fairbanks. I think,” He adds, pulling the fraying thread on his sleeves.

“You’re in the US?” Tony doesn’t bother to try and hide his surprise, “Why didn’t you let me know?”

“‘M barely in the United States. Closer to Russia  _ and  _ Canada than the rest of the country.”

“Mmhm. Enough of the geography lesson, Brucie. How bad are you hurt?”

Not evading this topic then. Bruce gives a shallow sigh and murmurs, “I’d rather tell you in person. I-I’m at the hospital, but it’s not life threatening or anything.” In his peripheral vision he sees the nurse give a look at the last statement, but he can’t decipher it. Quietly, Bruce adds, “Just hurry, please.”

His voice breaks at the end, and Tony just wants to give him a great big hug. “Yeah, of course.” Whispering as if someone could could be listening in he adds, “Did the other guy make an appearance?” Tony hates to ask, but he just has to.

“Er, no. No, it’s just me.”

Tony breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. I’ll be there in a just a second, okay?”

“Okay.” A pregnant pause sits and no one hangs up until, “Wait,” The biologist interjects, voice wavering.

“Hey, hey,” Tony soothes, “I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, I can stay on the line.”

Bruce pulls his knees up onto the bed and whispers, “Please don’t take a quinjet, or-or a helicarrier. I mean, I know they’re faster, but, uh-”

“Yeah, Bruce,” Tony interrupts. “I know. I understand. I’ll get straight on my jet. Leaving the tower as we speak. Want me to stay talking?” Tony asks, not a hint of hostility in his voice.

A moment passes before Bruce answers, “No, that’s okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem, big guy.” Bruce smiles at the old nickname. “See you in a bit.”

The biologist simply replies, “Okay,” and flips the phone shut.

Silence accompanies Bruce for a few blissful seconds, until the nurse asks, “How long ‘till your friend arrives?” Surprisingly, there’s still no bite to her words.

“Uh, a while. He’s in New York at the moment, so…” Bruce trails off, hoping she gets the picture.

“Well that’s no problem, hun. It’s gettin’ pretty late though. Dinner’s available, and this room’s yours.”

Bruce nods in understanding, unsure of how to respond.

It doesn’t seem to bother the nurse though, because she continues, “Now, I gotta go check up on my other patients, but I got Lori working the nurses’ station, and if she sees you leavin’, our next conversation ain’t gonna be as pleasant as this one.” Bruce nods again, dully looking at his chafed fingertips. “Alright honey. It’ll all be okay. But if your stitches are botherin’ you, or you need anything else, you hit that button, alright?”

The biologist still doesn’t look up, even when she points to the ‘call nurse’ button. With one last sad sigh, the nurse turns and leaves Bruce to his own devices.

Tears begin to fall from his current position - sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest like a young child. But they’re silent tears, the ones that tickle his chin once they drip down far enough.

After all of the light has left the windows and Bruce’s back aches from never moving from his sitting position, his body - the traitor that it is - starts to feel lethargic. Perhaps it’s from the overwhelming numbness in his body, or the fact that he’s not on the run, but the bed suddenly sounds like a piece of heaven to him.

And then the sleepiness and numbness is sucked right out of him when he remembers that anyone could take him while he was sleeping. Like the government, or anyone who wants to experiment. Like Ross. Thaddeus Ross means experiments, and experiments mean Thaddeus Ross. The words are synonymous to Bruce.

Instantaneously Bruce wants to scratch his bandages off and pull his hair. He’s trapped here at the hospital. A sitting duck for Ross.

The fear begins to surface the other guy, and Bruce tries to calm himself down.

Easier said than done.

He starts with the basics. Breathe in, two, three, out, two, three. In two, three, out, two, three. In two, three, out, two, three. In two, three, out, two, three. In two, three, out, two, three.

After calming himself down a bit, he moves to full meditation. And although he gets no sleep, he also gets no panic attacks and no appearance from the Other Guy. What a win for Bruce.

Even after hours has passed, Bruce hasn’t moved from his curled position on the bed. Which is exactly where Tony Stark finds him.

...And the nurse who chases in after Tony. “Sir! Sir, you can’t be in here!” Her shrilly voice calls out. “You don’t have permission!” Without even looking up, Bruce can tell that this is a different nurse.

Turning around and pulling off his sunglasses like the asshole the US wants him to be, he replies, “I’m sorry, have you met me? I’m giving myfuckingself permission.” Tony snaps, laying eyes on Bruce for the first time in who knows how long.

“I’m calling security!” The new nurse declares, but neither Tony nor Bruce give a damn.

“Yeah, go ahead and do that sweetheart.” Handing her a card from his pocket Tony adds, “And if you do actually go through with that threat, call that number and everything will get sorted out.” He gives her a trademark smile for good luck, and gives himself a mental reminder to thank Pepper when he gets the chance.

The nurse’s eyes widen as the realization hits. “Oh my God, you’re Tony Stark,” She trails off.

The engineer replies, “Yeah, sweetheart. Now, gonna give me a bit of privacy?” 

The terrified nurse nods slowly and then nearly runs out of the door.

Finally, he’s able to turn his attention to Bruce. Down goes his ‘I’m an asshole named Tony Fucking Stark’ mask, and his already broken heart breaks more. “Oh Brucie,”

Tears make their way down Bruce’s cheeks, chin, and drop to his knees. Not exactly how he planned this reunion to go. Especially not in a place like this.

The biologist keeps his mouth shut, afraid of what he might accidentally spit out.

“What happened?” Tony asks, with no malice anywhere near his voice.

To answer, Bruce ducks his head farther down into his knees and pulls his sleeves down further.

Of course Tony, the genius that he is, notices this and delicately pulls his friend’s left arm away from his body. From the way Bruce’s frame shakes, Tony knows he’s found the problem.

So he isn’t surprised when his eyes meet the pristine white bandages on Bruce’s forearms. Delicately, the engineer slides the sleeve back down to try and cease the uncomfortableness a bit. He then pulls the smaller man into a bear hug and mutters, “C’mon let’s get outta here.”

When they pull apart, Bruce replies, “Gotta sign some papers first though.”

Grinning, Tony says, “The beast speaks!” Only would Tony Stark Feel confident joking like that around Banner. “Also,” He adds, “When has that every stopped me? I mean, C’mon Brucie.  _ Paperwork? _ I keep Pepper around for a reason, you know. Who’s probably getting a call from an angry nurse right about now. Speaking of angry nurses, let’s blow this popsicle stand before they come back.” Slapping his knees he adds, “Now, where’s your stuff?”

Bruce awkwardly shrugs and gives a sheepish, “Uh,”

“Wait a minute,” Tony starts, “Don’t tell me the only thing you have are the clothes on your back. Don’t you fucking tell me that.”

“Well, I mean, I have a few rupees in my pockets…”

“ _ Serious _ ? You are  _ serious  _ about that?” Tony mutters a soft ‘damn’ and continues, “We’re gonna have a  _ serious  _ talk about self preservation when we get home, big guy. I’m  _ serious  _ about that.”

With an almost smile Bruce counters, “That’s pretty rich talk coming from you.”

Tony knows he’s not wrong. “Fine.  _ Rhodey’ll  _ give us both a talk about self preservation.” Bruce grimaces at that, and Tony agrees. “Yeah, actually on second thought, a lecture from Rhodey doesn’t sound too good.”

Bruce gives a pity laugh, but Tony counts it as a win.

“Now, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

The doctor shyly nods and agrees, “Yeah.”    


	2. Welcome to Fabulous New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce sees New York for the first time in years. Unfortunately, it gets worse before it gets better with our wonderful science bros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got up today and wrote 4000 words today holy shit- ANYWAY, this chapter has mentions of suicide but it's like a sentence or so long. Lots of comfort all around, and the alcoholism reallllly picks up.
> 
> Dedicated to Amber, whose birthday is in a couple days! Yay!

 

Bruce felt minorly blessed when Tony didn’t start drilling him with questions as soon as they boarded his private jet. Instead the engineer simply lets Bruce know that he can sleep on the way to New York, because it’s safe.

And Bruce for one, finally understands that it’s safe. On a private jet, just the two of them. Because Tony made a goddam autopilot for his jets. The biologist doesn’t point this out. Looks like he’s not the only one with trust issues.

He sleeps surprisingly well, given the fact that he’s in a new environment. It’s probably from the fact that it’s been years since he’s been given the chance to sleep somewhere safe.

Tony, on the other hand, does not sleep. Sure, he feels ‘safe’ on the jet, but he won’t risk it. Instead he sends a quick text to Rhodey and Pepper telling them why he took an impromptu trip to Alaska and took the jet. It reads,

 

**went to go pick up our favorite jolly green from fairbanks. be back soon ~TS**

 

When Pepper reads this, she wants to be mad, she really does. But with everything that’s gone on the past few months, she can’t bring herself to be.

When Rhodey reads this he thinks about how great that nickname fits Dr. Banner.

Bruce wakes about an hour away from the airstrip, and has to take a few deep breaths before everything comes tumbling back to him. Everything.

Accompanied by a quick gasp he pulls down the fraying sleeves to reveal his still bandaged arms. He begins to unravel the less than white strips, until a calloused hand stops his own. “Wha-”

“Keep ‘em on, green bean. If you’re really itching to get them off we’ll deal with that when we get to the tower.”

Muddled by sleep Banner asks, “...The tower? Oh right. Saw it on the news once. Good, good building.”

Snorting Tony replies, “Yeah, a bit empty now though.” Both of them wince at the thought.

“Oh. Yeah. I guess it would be.”

“Anyway!” Tony says clapping his hands, “That doesn’t matter. We still got Vis and Rhodey and Pep, and that’s all good.

Bruce gives a pity smiles and points out, “You look like shit, Tony.”

“Thanks buddy.”

“Anytime.”

The subject is dropped, because Tony would rather not delve into it, and Bruce is still too tired to argue. The engineer fixes the scrunched up bandages on Bruce’s forearm, and checks the other one, just in case. Satisfied, he says, “Alright. We’re almost home, otherwise I’d recommend another nap for you.”

Frowning Bruce replies, “I could say the same for you. When was the last time you got any sleep?” Unfortunately for Tony, the subject is brought up yet again.

Giving a trademark Stark Smirk, the older man says, “Always the mother hen, aren’t you, Brucie?”

“Tony,” Is all he gets as a response, which apparently, is enough.

Sitting on the edge of the cot in the jet Tony rubs a tired hand over his face and mutters, “I know what you mean, Brucie. I know I don’t have that same…  _ glow  _ as I did before, but I have a lot of things to do. I’ll sleep back at the house, how about that?”

Bruce looks unconvinced, but he’s pretty sure that’s all he’s gonna get. “Okay. Yeah. Sleep back at the house.”

Pausing, Bruce asks, “‘House’? Isn’t it a mansion?”

“Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like a house that’s too large with only a few people living in it.”

“Oh.”

Smiling Tony adds, “Your vocabulary has not been mirroring your multiple PhDs, today, Doctor Banner.”

Bruce gives a smile back, and for a second, it looks like everything’s gonna be alright. Of course, both of the brilliant minds know that nothing can go well in their lives, but it’s nice to pretend for a second. It’s like buying a lottery ticket and thinking of all of the ways you’d spend the money, even though rationally you’d know that you were never going to win.

Their smiles crumble back down and Bruce can see the dark circles taking Tony’s eyes captive, as well as protruding cheekbones.  _ Malnutrition,  _ Banner’s mind easily supplies, _ Malnutrition, lack of sleep, and chronic stress. _

Alternatively, Tony sees Bruce’s jittery eyes, never staying focused on a single object for more than a second, slightly faster than normal breathing, and nibbling on his cuticles. Stark’s brain tell him,  _ Chronic Anxiety, untreated panic disorders,  _ and of course,  _ NSSH _ .

They’re really just poster children for mental health.

Gently, Tony pries Bruce’s hand away from his mouth and says, “Hey now,” Softly.

Suddenly, the doctor (but not that kind of doctor) feels like crying. It may be the safety of the jet, or talking with someone he knows is genuine, and not trying to screw him over to Ross, or just the adrenaline of everything happening coming down, but whatever the case is, it’s bad.

Waving his hand in front of him Bruce says, “I’m just, just gonna, you know,” Real smooth, Banner, “Nap, er, try to nap, that is.”

Tony grins at his old friend’s awkwardness and replies, “Yeah, Bruce, I know. I’ll wake you up once we’ve landed.”

The biologist silently nods and pushes himself to the farthest corner of the cot, purely out of habit.

Surprising Tony, and himself, he’s able to fall back asleep in a matter of minutes.

With a fond sigh Tony pulls the sheet out and drapes it on top of him. For someone that transforms into a giant green rage monster, Bruce can look quite small sometimes.

_ Ew, emotions, _ Tony thinks. _ God I need a drink. _

And he really does. Drinks are wonderful things in the world of Tony Stark.

Contrary to popular belief, Tony did actually try to quit drinking. He succeeded for a bit when he was convinced he was dying from palladium (good times), but otherwise it’s been a constant threat. Since he was a young teenager and he took his first swig of beer.

But if he’s being completely honest, it had been a threat since he was an infant, watching his father constantly drink and smoke around him, and then watching his father’s business partners drink and smoke around him. 

Lucky for him, there’s always a bar around the corner.

Because in every Tony Stark modified design, such as a self flying jet, there’s always a bar. 

Besides, some good scotch sounds really, really good right about now. And maybe another glass. And perhaps another after that? 

The problem is, Stark is intelligent enough to understand that this “drinking habit” is not the healthiest. So after three glasses of scotch he throws the bottle - and the glass, for good measure - on the ground and watch the sparkling pieces of glass litter the floor.

...And instantly regrets it.

Thoughts swarm his mind, mostly about how he shouldn’t have fucking done that, because now there’s glass on the floor, and yeah that’s a hazard but he has a friend who he brought back from the hospital from fucking slicing himself up, imagine how he would feel if he saw glass, and oh God how he never thinks about anyone else and now he’s wasted perfectly good alcohol because now it’s all over the floor and what if Bruce wakes up right now? What would he think of Tony, probably nothing good, but it’s high tide that he learned that anyway and all he really is a rich man that got lucky once or twice in his lifetime he’s no better than the terrorists that kidnapped him so many moons ago and-

A beep from his ‘watch’ alerts him that his heart rate has risen to an unsafe level, and he should try breathing deeply and slowly to stop it. Right now, Tony wants to throw the damn gadget right next to the bottle, but he does listen to the little device and starts to level his breathing.

Not a few minutes later does the engineer take in what he’s done. “Oh God,” He mumbles to no one but the air. 

He then goes about cleaning the floor before Bruce wakes up, because he really doesn’t want this to be triggering to his friend. Really, it’s a miracle that he didn’t wake up initially while the bottle throwing was happening, so Tony works quietly.

After a few minutes the floor is just how it was, if not a wee bit more shiny.

_ “As long as you clean up your mistakes before anyone notices, it’s like nothing really happened, right m’boy?”  _ Obadiah Stane had asked him so many years ago. Before his parents had died. Before Jarvis had died. 

Of course naive Tony didn’t know that Obie would use the same thought process to get rid of him in Afghanistan. To be fair, no one knew what Obie was doing in Afghanistan. At least, no one who could fix it.

As the jet lands on the airstrip - with no pilot, Stark would add - Tony gently shakes his odd pal awake. He sees the moment of panic, the twinkle of green in his friend’s eyes, and sets himself to make it disappear.

“Hey, Hey, Bruce, it’s just me, Tony. You’re on the jet, remember? Picked you up from Alaska, way up North, yeah?”

The engineer watches as Bruce blinks a couple times and murmurs, “Oh. Yeah. Jet, right. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, green bean,” Tony replies with practiced ease, “No need to apologize at all.”

Bruce nods and takes a deep breath, but looks rather unconvinced. Eventually, he speaks, “You smell like scotch, Tony.”

With a fake grin Tony replies, “I didn’t realize your palate was so refined, Bruce,”

“You’re evading the point.”

“Am I?”

“Tony - wait. Do you have a mini bar on the jet?”

“Mini bar?  _ Mini Bar?  _ Please Brucie, I have the  _ entire  _ bar here. Maraschino cherries and all.” Tony adds with a bit of charm.

Of course, charm has never worked on the doctor, and it’s not going to start working now. “That’s really not healthy-”

All charm now lost, the engineer replies, “Oh yeah, and you’d know, right? You’d know healthy?” Like most things he does, Tony regrets the words as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

And then regrets it even more when Bruce ducks his head in his knees like a turtle in a shell. 

“Sorry, Sorry, I uh,” Tony runs a hand through his greasy hair and stumbles on, “I didn’t really mean that, it just sort of came out, I just- sorry.” No wonder he leaves the apologies to Pepper. It’s like the time he was ten and yelled at his friend for not giving him the wheels of his plastic car in boarding school.

Even after all this time, it’s true: Tony Stark is bad at making apologies.

He’s good at feeling apologetic, but as far as the words go? Nada. Nope. Ziltch.

“...ony. Tony.” Bruce’s voice brings him back to the present.

“What? Sorry, could you repeat that?”

With added lines of worry etched onto his face Bruce answers, “I just said ‘it’s alright’. Are  _ you  _ okay Tony?”

Wading another hand through his hair Stark mutters, “Yeah, yeah, I’m great. Just spaced for a second- anyway!” A Tony Stark mask gets up on and he smiles at Bruce. An outsider would see it as a genuine smile. “Welcome to New York!” He finishes, opening the door of the jet, revealing the city.

Unlike Tony, Bruce has to barely duck down to get out onto the private airstrip. Even though the air is smoggy, Bruce can breathe more easily now that he’s not trapped in a giant metal flying contraption.

Ever since Ross, claustrophobia has become more of a problem for him.

“Mmkay,” Tony interjects Bruce’s thoughts, “So Happy’s waiting for us over there, you still remember Happy, right? He’s still my driver, he’s great.”

The biologist looks confused for a second before confirming, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember him. Hogan, right?”

“Yep, Happy Hogan.”

The two scientists walk out to the sleek black car, with nothing in hand. 

Anxiety creeping up on Bruce, he plays with the cuffs of the sleeves, mindful that they keep the bandages covered all of the way down his arm.

It’s not often that Tony Stark gets off of a jet without thousands of cameras flashing in his face, but now that they’re gone, it doesn’t feel quite right. He could really go for a drink right now. Just something to keep him busy and distracted.

Tony knocks on the tinted glass with a knuckle and waits for Happy to lower the window. 

“I’ll be driving back today, Hap,”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah.” Turning to Bruce he adds, “C’mon Brucie, ride passenger.”

Looking rather uncomfortable Bruce stammers, “Uh, okay?” He spares a glance to Happy, but the driver doesn’t seem bothered by Tony driving.

Opening the door, Bruce gets the reminder that Tony is rich. Really rich. The private jet really should’ve reminded him, but looking at the expensive leather seats and the tinted windows and heating/cooling and God everything is so expensive and he’s wearing dirty clothes, and now he’s gonna get all of the seats dirty and Tony’s going to have to spend even more money on him, which is just ridiculous because he’s already spending too much money on him simply bringing him back to New York, this entire things must be a joke and-

“Bruce?”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, I uh,” The shorter man trails off and forces himself to sit in the passenger seat. He keeps the grimaces to himself when he thinks of his tattered clothes touching the new seats.

“Alright!” Tony announces, slapping the dashboard and starting the engine. 

While weaving through traffic Bruce lets his mind wander, ignoring the soft rock echoing throughout the vehicle. 

He wonders if anyone in India will miss him. Well, not  _ miss  _ miss him, but notice that he’s gone. He’s sure the girls would, had they still been alive. At some point he had a friendly relationship with the fruit picker, even went to his family to eat dinner with them once. He’s sure that the fruit picker will remember him. Bruce thinks that most people will notice that the American man that speaks Gujarati is gone, but won’t think much of it.

Bruce Banner is good at disappearing. One of the best in the world, actually. Self-taught too. Most members of SHIELD get some good training on disappearing and slipping between countries, but Banner taught himself. It was either that or experiments.

A small shiver runs through Bruce’s frame when he thinks about it, and Tony notices.

“You alright there?” He says, taking his eyes off the road to glance at his friend.

Shaking himself out of his stupor Bruce replies, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Tony doesn’t believe it, but he also doesn’t have time to dwell on it. “Right, well, we’re here, so I hope you’re ready for the fabulous land that’s the Tower.”

Bruce grins and says, “You’ve always had a way with words.”

Tony grins back and says, “You should see me when Pepper doesn’t help me with speeches. Oh, oh God it’s a trainwreck.” Before Bruce can reply Tony tosses the keys to Happy and declares, “Go ahead and get this car outta my face. Take it for a joy ride, take it back, I don’t care.”

“Sure thing,”

Opening his arms Tony says, “As aforementioned, welcome to the tower. You can have four, five, six floors, two labs, a Hulk-out room, and enough sugar to kill ya.”

“Uhm,” Was Bruce’s oh so elegant response.

Jerking his head toward the tower Tony adds, “No seriously, we’ve had a bit of extra space of late. And we need to get you into some new clothes, so…”

Bruce nods and walks up to the doors with Tony. “It’s unlocked,” The engineer announces, “Fri recognizes my face and unlocks the doors. Easy technology, really. Could’ve done it in my sleep. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure I did it while drunk.”

Although the last bit isn’t too comforting, Bruce nods again and steps into the tower.

It’s a lot to take in, even though he’d seen the specs and draft of it years before.

Tony must notice his sense of overwhelm, because he guides the smaller man to the elevator and says, “Lab, Friday.”

“Friday?”

“New AI. I mean, you were here for JARVIS and Ultron and all of that fun shit. Friday was born not much after.”

“Didn’t you have a back-up for JARVIS?” Bruce inquires, pinching and fiddling with the outside seam of his pants, much to Tony’s dismay.

Shrugging the engineer answers, “Sort of. Not really. But he’s not completely dead. I have this, er, not really AI, he’s is own person, so that’s something. Almost like a son, really-”

“A son? Tony!”

“No, no, not that kind of son, I know what you’re thinking. It’s this human, but it’s made out of code- long story, anyway, he’s living here, but he sorta has an actual, idontknow, girlfriend or something? And  _ she’s  _ some, well, kid really, who screwed my brain, and it’s honestly just such a mess right now.” He finishes and turns to Bruce who looks even more overwhelmed. Great. Good job, Tony.

With big eyes Bruce asks, “Is that all?”

Tony confidently says, “Oh yeah. Definitely. Well, I mean, of Vis?”

“Who?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s his name. ‘Vision’.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, it’s rough. Oh, one more thing- he walks through walls.”

Tony says it so nonchalantly Bruce almost misses it. “What?!”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. You’ll get used to it surprisingly fast. And I’ve gotten him to start using doors more recently, so that’s good.” Tony grins at the last part, and Bruce can’t help but give a grin of his own.

It feels like ages to the both of them since they bantered around.

But it really has been ages, hasn’t it?

The elevator gives a quick ‘Ding!’ before the doors open to reveal the lab.

When Tony looks over his friend is completely in awe. Bruce breathes deeply and looks around at all of the tools around him. The lab itself is giant, just like the old one, and everything in it is futuristic. There are a few holograms still up, presumably from when Tony left in a rush to get Bruce.

A whirring pulls Bruce out of shock and when he looks down a certain needy robot is trying to get his attention. 

Glancing at Tony Bruce asks, “Dum-E, right?”

“Yep.” He answers, popping the ‘p’. “Hey Fri, is Rhodey in the tower?”

“Colonel Rhodes arrived five minutes before you, returning from physical therapy.” Comes the voice in the ceiling. Bruce has to remind himself that JARVIS doesn’t exist anymore, but he can’t help but miss the old british voice.

Tony nods and says, “Perfect. Tell him to bring down some clothes to the lab.”

“Okay, boss. Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.” Then, turning his attention to Bruce he says, “Alright, let’s check up on those arms.”

Instinctively, Bruce wraps his arms around his waist, even though they’re still covered by the sleeves of the old jacket. 

Tony notices it and tries his best for comfort. “It’s just me here, you know that, right?”

Bruce nods and says, “No, yeah, I know. It’s just… Can we maybe do this another day?” Tony opens his mouth to object but Bruce continues, “Or I can just change the bandages by myself, maybe?”

Pulling up a chair for himself and Bruce Tony softly replies, “Bruce, Brucie Bear, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do anything bad, no one needs to know about this, ‘kay? Not even the other people living in the tower. It’ll be out secret. We’ll be like twelve year old girls that keep secrets from their parents. Sound good?”

Bruce manages a smile but doesn’t say anything.

“Colonel Rhodes is at the elevator, Boss.” Friday’s voice interjects, ruining the moment. Tony reminds himself that she’s still a baby, and she’s still learning about when to and not to interrupt.

Tony pats Bruce’s shoulder before replying, “Send ‘em in.”

“Tony,” Rhodes starts, “I brought clothes but why the fuck would you-” He eyes settle on the smaller man. “Oh. Hey Bruce.”

Hiding behind his curls he answers, “Hey.”

“Tony told me you were coming, but I didn’t realize, that um, that  _ you _ were the person that needed the clothes, otherwise I’d-”

“That’s okay.” Bruce quickly covers, not wanting the other man to feel guilty.

From the side with a devilish grin Tony says, “Let the bonding ensue!” And receives a glare from both of the other men. “Anyway, thanks Rhodey, but that’s all.”

Rolling his eyes Rhodes asks, “Alright. You gonna come up for dinner today?” Which catches Bruce’s attention.

Shooing his friend into the elevator Tony replies, “Always, Rhodey. Always.”

After he leaves and the elevator starts going up Bruce inquires, “When’s the last time you ate dinner, Tony?”

“So many questions, Brucie.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of science. And you’re evading my questions again.”

Sighing Tony answers, “Fine. There’s a few nights here and there where I  _ forget _ to eat dinner but that’s nothing new. It’s not like I’m purposely avoiding dinner itself.” Bruce doesn’t look satisfied, but Tony’s not surprised. “And now you’re the one avoiding the changing of the bandages.”

Bruce sighs and curls up a bit on the chair. “Fine.”

“Bruce, I’m not gonna hurt you or judge your or anything I just need to make sure they aren’t dirty and they won’t get infected.”

“I said it was fine, Tony.”

“Okay.” Tony confirms. “Dum-E, get the first aid kit.”

Seconds later the bot rolls to them carrying the first aid kit. As well as a fire extinguisher.

Shaking his head with fondness Tony mutters, “I swear to God, Dum-E your obsession with the fire extinguisher is not healthy. I’m gonna have to rewire you or something.”

Dum-E lowers his claw in sadness and rolls away after dropping the kit at Tony’s feet.

“Dum-E seems to have more emotions.” Bruce observes.

Chuckling the engineer replies, “Nah, he’s just old. He’s like a senior citizen in ‘bot years or something. Gonna have to give him up to an old folks home soon enough.”

Bruce smiles and Tony lightly pulls his friend’s right sleeve back. “Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” Tony’s not the best at comforting, but he can at least try.

The biologist murmurs a small, “Okay,” and bites his lip. With his left hand he rubs the side of his jacket with anxiety.

“Bruce,” Tony says, “I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you, and I’m not gonna tell anyone about this. In fact- Friday?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Blackout until I - and only I - tell you to stop.”

“Sure, boss.”

Beginning to unravel the bandages Tony says, “There. Now Fri’s not even recording. It’s all good. Blackout protocol makes sure that no one can get in our out of the lab, and Friday’s shut down until I say the right words.”

Bruce doesn’t reply this time, but looks with a scientific curiosity at his arms.

Tony gives a sympathetic hiss when the bandages fall and his arms are revealed. Long, thick lines run down from elbow to wrist, all stitched up with medical grade thread. The engineer tosses the old bandages to a bin on the left and then asks, “Can I clean it?”

He gets a silent nod in response.

Pulling out rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and gets to work, ignoring the glorious stench. Each time Bruce involuntarily flinches back from the stinging Tony gives a “Sorry”, but still continues on. 

A few cotton balls later Tony wraps up his arm with practiced ease. “Too tight?”

Bruce shakes his head.

“Too loose?”

Another shake.

“Comfortable enough?”

A nod, this time.

Still holding the other man’s arm Tony softly says, “Brucie, you’re gonna have to give me a bit more than that.”

“It’s fine.” Bruce hoarsely whispers, barely audible to Tony.

“Bruce.” Tony warns, but with no malice.

“I’m fine.”

Sighing, Tony surrenders. “Okay. Other arm now?”

Bruce shoves his coat sleeve down and brings his other arm up, with slow, robotic movements. 

Tony starts and almost finishes the whole process over again before Bruce quietly says, “I thought that I had done it.”

Pausing wrapping the bandage Tony asks with equal volume, “Done what?”

“Found a way.” Bruce replies beneath his curls in what seemed like a negative decibel of sound. “Found a way, without the Hulk.”

Tony doesn’t press more, because he understands.

_ I thought I had found the way to end my life without the Hulk interfering. _

Bruce quietly continues, “I mean, even if those hikers didn’t find me, the Hulk would’ve, would’ve, he would’ve,”

Tony finishes dressing the wound and pulls the sleeve back down.

“I know, Bruce. I understand,”

The doctor collapses off the chair, spine seemingly gone, until Tony catches him, sliding down on the floor with him.

In the strange embrace, Tony mutters, “You know Bruce, I’m glad they found you. I’m really fucking glad those hikers found you. Really fucking glad.”

Instead of replying, Bruce sobs into his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Tony, I’m sorry.”

Stopping tears of his own, Tony replies, “I know you are, but you never have to be. Ever.”

After a few more minutes Tony half leads, half picks up Bruce to the couch in the lab. He tells him how everything will be alright. That he’s safe now. That nothing bad will happen anymore, and they’ll get through it.

Lies and lies and lies and lies and then more lies after that.

Once Tony’s sure his friend is sleeping, he stops murmuring the lies and wanders over to the bar, obviously in his lab. Because he’s Tony Fucking Stark, dammit.

And he drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

Because whenever he drinks, someone’s always there to find him and give him a stern talking to, because that’s what has happened every other time.

So he continues to drink.

And drink.

And drink.

And drink.

And then drink some more.

He falls unconscious with a bottle.

The stern talking to never happens, though.

Blackout protocol is a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please consider commenting because I'd love to hear your thoughts and they just honestly make my day ^-^


	3. Can't Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some "progress" on the wonderful scientists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright 1) this is loosely edited because it's really fucking late, and I'm exhausted but I promised myself I'd get out a chapter for Amber's birthday. Happy Birthday!
> 
> And 2) I meant to have this out yesterday, but my wrist was bothering me like a bitch. Anyway long story short my PT doctor gave me this real handy do-dad that halfway corrects ulnar-deviation when on, so that's always good. It feels really weird, but typing is nearly painless now, so yay!

Bruce wakes not very soundly.

He wakes to Colonel Rhodes shouting through the thick glass walls of the lab.

Cutting through his initial confusion, is worry. If Rhodes is shouting at Tony loud enough to wake Bruce, something is definitely wrong. He sits up in an instant.

“Bruce! Bruce,” Anyone with half a brain could hear the relief in his voice. “Bruce, you gotta open this door, or wake up Tones, you gotta do something, man.”

Giving his sleeves an extra push down, he gets himself to the door. But it won’t open. Looking up he sees pure fear in the Colonel’s eyes.

“I-I can’t- it won’t open,” Bruce stamers, Rhodes’ fear matching his own now.

“You have to wake up Tones, then.” He starts, “I can’t do anything, none of my override codes are working, and, and I can’t, Friday won’t listen to me - I got nothin’!”

It clicks, and Bruce is a bit disappointed in himself that he didn’t make the connection earlier. To be fair, he hasn’t exactly been at the top of his game lately. “Blackout protocol.” He mumbles to himself.

“What?”

“No wonder the override codes didn’t work,” He continues mumbling, while racing over to his friend, unconscious and surrounded by at least twenty empty or smashed bottles. “Tony. Tony!” Bruce shouts, face contorting in the God awful stench of different types of alcohol all mixed together.

Taking in all of the bottles around him, Bruce again yells, “Tony! Tony c’mon you gotta wake up.” Shaking the engineer’s shoulder, panic races through him, and Banner feels the other guy stir up in his gut.

Instinctively he tried to push the Hulk down, until he realizes the benefit.

The Hulk could be the way to get the door open. Er, break it down.

Turning toward the panicked man Bruce warns, “Colonel Rhodes, you may want to take a step back.” Ignoring Rhodes’ questions, Bruce stows his jacket underneath the nearest desk. Because dammit, he loves that garment, and would rather not have it torn to shreds. 

Then, with a few thoughts of ‘Tony’s in trouble’, Bruce feels the familiar pain of his body stretching to inhuman sizes - and then nothing.

 

~

 

When Bruce wakes for the second time that day, awareness comes slowly.

Regaining consciousness on a soft mattress is something new. Especially after the soreness of a Hulk-out.

“Doctor Banner,” A voice that sounds  _ painfully _ similar to JARVIS says, “Doctor Banner, are you awake?”

Opening his eyes, Bruce is greeted with a strange sight. “You’re red. Your skin is red. Red and silver.” The doctor rubs his eyes to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. “Why are you red and silver?” He attempts to clarify.

“I am not human.”

Well at least he’s (it’s?) honest. “Um, oh. What are you then?”

“I am a creation of Tony Stark. My name is Vision.” He answers, and Bruce understands.

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ You’re Vision.”

Accompanied with a look of confusion, Vision agrees, “Yes, that is what I said. Are you feeling quite alright, Doctor Banner?”

“Call me Bruce, and yeah I’m fine - where’s Tony? Is he, he, I saw all the bottles, and ohhh God,” Stopping himself, Bruce reminds himself to take a few deep breath before he’s full on hyperventilating.

“He is in the next room over and woke thirty minutes ago. He is in mild distress.” Vision easily supplies.

Bruce moves to get up, before realizing that he’s stark naked underneath the blanket. “Are there any clothes, or uh, a jacket, or…?”

Pointing to a chair Vision states, “There are clothes here, and Tony requested that your jacket was also brought up. It was placed next to the clothes.”

“Thanks. Thank you.” I’m gonna change now, so, uh,” Bruce hopes Vision gets the picture.

Luckily he does. “I’m sure we’ll meet soon again, Bruce.” He notes, and then walks out of the room. Via wall.

Bruce stares at the section of the wall in awe before pulling himself together and putting on the clothes. The doctor is eager enough to make sure Tony’s alright that he doesn’t realize that the wounds on his arms didn’t disappear from the Hulk-out.

He softly knocks on the door before letting himself into Tony’s room, other hand fumbling with the cuffs of the jacket. Bruce was planning on asking the other man if he was alright, or what happened, but instead his mouth blurts out,

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tony.”

The engineer flinches for a millisecond and then easily composes himself. “Hey there, Brucie Bear. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Feeling his face heat up, Bruce harshly closes the door and clarifies, “You’re a  _ fucking idiot _ . This is, it’s, it- God Tony! Why the hell would you do that! Friday couldn’t do a goddamn thing, because of your ‘protocol’, and then I hate to wake up to you unconscious in a pile of glass and liquor!”

Feeling a bit dizzy, Bruce sits himself down on a chair and scoots it up next to Tony’s side, cautious of the IV snaking out of his arm.

Quieting down, the biologist continues, “Why, Tony? Why would you do that?”

Devoid of humor, Tony replies, “Because it’s what I do. I drink, Bruce, or did you not get the memo? Everyone else in the world knows. Or did you think that I was different. What? Take a sabbatical for a couple of fucking years, and now Tony Stark is magically fixed? Huh? That’s how you think it’s gonna be?” He tries to sit up in bed, but Bruce quickly stops him.

Rubbing his face, Bruce mutters, “Sorry. I just,” a pregnant pause echos in the quiet room before the interrupting, “Got scared from it.” Awkwardly clearing his throat Bruce questions, “How much, ah, how much did you drink?”

Shrugging the other man replies, “Dunno. Enough. Er, it would’ve been if they didn’t pump my stomach.”

“That’s not healthy, Tony.”

Sneering, Stark growls, “You know, I remember hearing those exact words not twenty-fucking-four hours ago,”

Wincing Bruce tries to interject, but with no avail.

“And perhaps you didn’t get the picture when I yelled at you the first time. It doesn’t matter. I’m Tony Fucking Stark, so it doesn’t matter. I’ve been drinking since I was a kid, and it’s not like I’m gonna stop now. Besides,  _ you’re _ in no position to hassle me around.”

Biting his lip, the doctor chalks up his friend’s irritable mood to the previous night. “Tony, I’m just worried at this point. You can’t keep doing this.”

“You’ve been here for hours, Bruce,  _ hours!  _ The hell would you know about what I can or can’t do.”

To reply, Bruce just swallows.

As if just realizing what he’s said, Tony lightly slams his head into the pillow and groans. “Oh God, Bruce. What the fuck is wrong with me. Can’t even talk to my friend anymore. What’s next?” Both of the men understand this as an apology.

Struggling to comfort his friend, Bruce simply replies, “It’s okay, Tony. I’m okay. You’re okay.” They sit in a (less than) comfortable silence before Bruce questions, “When’s the last time you talked with someone.”

“Uh, right now?”

“No, I mean, really talked with someone, like- Nevermind, you know what I mean. Like with Pepper, or Rhodey? Hell, even Friday?”

Tony shrugs nonchalantly, as if the biologist asked about the weather.

“Tony.”

“What do you know about the Civil War? Not, not the American one, but you know, the one that happened a month ago.”

Slightly taken aback, Bruce replies, “I mean, some? Not much really. Most people left, and then you were reported gone for a few days, and then that’s all?”

Tony snorts and says, “Yeah, that’s basically the gist. But,” He starts, “That’s obviously not all. Natasha double crossed me, and I mean, I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. ‘Happens every other time anyway. And then I recruited this new guy, well not guy, kid, really, the spider-ling, oh God, poor thing would fangirl over you.” 

Bruce chuckles a bit at that, in turn making Tony smile too.

“And Germany happened, Rhodey, Rhodey, he,” A shiver runs through his frame, and Bruce notices how thin and weak he looks in the bed. “He, uh, fell.”

“Fell?” Bruce prompts.

“Yeah, and I couldn’t go fast enough to save him-”

“Not your fault.” Bruce interrupts.

Giving him a look Tony replies, “I didn’t say it was.”

“Mmm, you basically did, and you were thinking it.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too- oh for God’s sake, Tony.”

Tony gives a childish grin, and continues. “Anyway, and then some interesting shit happened, and then I went on a vacation to Siberia, fun-cation, really, with Steve and Bucky, and we got in a bit of a disagreement, and that’s all. All caught up?”

Tony can tell that Bruce definitely doesn’t feel all caught up, but he’s nice enough to not push. 

“So uh,” The engineer starts, “What happened? I mean, last night. Rhodey refuses to tell me and gives me disapproving glares, and Friday was shut off, so you’re the last baring witness. And Pepp’s off in California doing something, man I hope it’s important.”

“Well, I can’t help much. Rhodes is probably your only witness.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“Vis told me that you were in the room next to me. We’re in the med bay. So spill, Banner. What the hell happened and how the fuck did you end up in the med bay?”

Scratching his head in discomfort Bruce quietly answers, “Well, as you know the lab was on lockdown, so-”

“Yep, yep, fast forward, Jolly Rancher,”

“The Hulk broke the glass to get you out.” Bruce abruptly states, not bothering to sugar coat it. “Sorry,” He adds, “I don’t know what he did or didn’t destroy in the process.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Tony shakes his head, “No, not shit about the lab. Shit to you.” Bruce smiles. What a sentence. The engineer continues, “Sorry about the Hulking-out. That’s, ah, definitely my bad. I know you try to avoid the other guy as much as possible.”

Scooting a bit closer to the bed Bruce says, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was my conscious decision to Hulk out,”

“Doesn’t help.” Tony declares, much to Bruce’s dismay. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Outside of the cameras and the media, Tony’s still a snarky guy, but he’s exhausted, and no one other than Bruce is around him, so he doesn’t bother with the entertaining. 

After a minute or so of listening to the overhead fan, Tony asks, “Could you find me a tablet?”

Curiosity washing over him Bruce inquires, “Why’s that?”

“Gonna go update the Blackout Protocol codes. Make a maximum amount of time,” Tony expands. “Or after a certain amount of time a mandatory vocal consent.”

Nodding Bruce turns to go out of the door before asking, “Oh! Did you ever turn off the protocol in the lab from last… night? Wait what time is it? There aren’t any windows in this place,” The last bit, mostly a mutter to himself.

“One: Yes, a few minutes after I woke up. Two: It’s ten in the morning, happy Monday. And three:,” A devilish grin spreads across the engineer’s face while he says, “Fri, open the windows in this room.”

Instantly, the wall seems to dissipate into a clean sheet of glass that takes up most of the back wall. Tony strains his neck to look out the window from the bed, and nods. “Works beautifully, doesn’t it? And from the outside it just looks like more wall.”

Chuckling Banner notes, “You never do things normally, do you? Are blinds beneath you?”

With mock seriousness Tony nods. “Oh yes. Ever since that fateful day in… June, yeah I’ve sworn to never  _ ever _ use blinds again.”

“Oh man.”

Grinning Tony says, “Oh c’mon, Brucie, you love it.”

“Sure.” He replies, but he’s also grinning. Fondly shaking his head, Bruce gets back on track. “Okay so I’m gonna go,” He makes a gesture with his hands, “Gonna go get your tablet. Or I guess a tablet. I suppose all of these are yours.

Giving him a thumbs up Tony says, “Yep! Thank you, Brucie! You’re my favorite! Get me the one in my room pleaseeee!”

With one last eye roll the scientist leaves the room and heads to Tony’s room. Or at least the floor that he remembered that had Tony’s room. 

Surprising him, the door opened without any resistance and he practically trots over to the bed, which looks exactly how Tony Stark’s bed would look.

Sheets are thrown to the ground, as well as one of the pillows. On top of the fitted sheet lays hundreds of metal parts, accompanied by a few screwdrivers and - goddamnit - a blowtorch. Laying on top of the pillow is the tablet. 

Bruce picks up the tablet and takes the blowtorch off of the bed. Seriously, Tony’s going to get himself killed this via fiery explosion. 

As the biologist turns to leave, he glances at the nightstand. On it, is an orange pill bottle, and the shittiest flip phone Bruce has ever seen, not unlike the one Tony gave him all those moons ago when he left for Asia.

It’s not the flip phone that bothers him though.

The biologist picks up the bottle in curiosity, surprised at the weight.

“Friday?” Bruce asks, suddenly very cautious.

“How can I assist you, Doctor Banner?”

“Is Rhodes in the building right now?”

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes is currently in the kitchen on the sixteenth floor. Would you like me to relay a message to him?” Friday asks, no doubt learning what people’s intentions are.

Blinking a few times Bruce replies, “No, that’s alright. Thanks.” He adds.

“It’s my pleasure, Doctor Banner.”

Stuffing the pill bottle in his large jacket pocket and holding the tablet underneath his arm, Bruce hurries off to the kitchen.

Rhodes instantly sees him when Bruce almost stumbles in. “Hey, Bruce. It’s good to see you up and about, after last night. Is everything alright?” He asks, noticing the confused face on the scientist.

Cutting right to the chase Bruce asks, “When was the last time Tony refilled his medication?”

“Uh,” Rhodey murmurs, thinking back, not bothering to question how Bruce knows Tony’s been taking meds. “Two and a half, no, three weeks ago? I think,”

Taking the pill bottle out of his pocket Bruce eyes it and says, “So that’s why there are… still, what? Thirty pills left in here?”

“Son of a bitch.”

Bruce nods. “My thoughts exactly.”

Setting down his coffee with enough force to crack a normal countertop (but still no match to a Stark one) Rhodey stands up and heads to the elevator, only slightly wincing in his braces.

Bruce wordlessly follows him, fingers unintentionally picking at his cuticles. 

“Can I see it?”

“What?” Bruce replies, pulling out of his thoughts.

“The bottle,” Rhodes clarifies. “Can I see the bottle.”

Handing it over, Bruce says, “Yeah. Sure.”

While squinting at the tiny writing on the side, Rhodes mutters another “Son of a Bitch.” and holds the bottle with enough force Bruce is worried it’s going to shatter.

As soon as the elevator ‘dings!’ The Colonel marches out with an intimidation that shouldn’t be possible for someone that was diagnosed with paralyzation weeks ago.

“Tones!” Rhodey shouts into the hallway, making his way to the room.

Bruce bites his lip in anxiety, drawing a bit of blood.

They both turn into the room, but Rhodes stomps all of the way up to the bed, while Bruce stays at the doorway, awkwardly pulling at the jacket’s seams.

“Want to explain this?” Rhodes asks, mocking innocence, holding up the bottle?”

Swallowing Tony asks, “What do you mean?”

Nearly growling, Rhodes replies, “Oh, I think you know what I mean. Your last refill was three weeks ago, so you feel like telling me why the goddamn bottle is full?!”

Bruce involuntarily curls on himself, even though he logically knows that the yelling is not directed at him. 

Quietly, Tony mutters, “To be fair, it’s full minus one. I took one of them.”

Throwing his hands up in the air and losing a bit of balance, Rhodes says, “Oh yeah that’s great. Fucking  _ fabulous _ , Tony. You took one. Single. Pill.”

“C’mon Rhodey, it’s not like that,” Tony tries, but immediately gets shut down by his elder.

“‘Not like that’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Anxiety creeping up like a mouse, Bruce sets the tablet on a chair near the door and quickly exists the floor. As he heads down the hallway he can hear Rhodey chastising the other man.

Stepping into the elevator, Friday asks, “Where to, Doctor Banner?”

“...Uh,” Bruce has no idea where to go. It’s not like he’s halfway comfortable with anything around him, and he doesn’t know where he’s restricted either. Pepper is out, so he doesn’t have anyone else to guide him around either. Except that’s not quite true.

“Take me to where Vision is.”

“Certainly, Doctor Banner.”

A few floors later (because that’s how you measure things in the Stark Tower) Bruce steps out into what looks like a simple apartment. It looks horrendously out of place compared to the rest of the futuristic components of the tower.

“Vision?” Bruce calls out tentatively, to the open air.

Floating out from a wall - dammit, Tony was wrong, it doesn’t get any easier - Vision calls, “Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah.” Was the elegant response. “I just… Do you live here?’

Vision nods and replies, “Yes, well, as I don’t need to perform functions as most humans do, I still live here.” He pauses before adding, “Ideally, it would be shared by Wanda.”

“Maximoff?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the ‘Civil War’ has put a bit of a crinkle in our relationship.”

Oh boy does Bruce know about unforeseen crinkles in relationships. “Ah. That’s unfortunate. It’ll work out though, I’m sure.”

Sighing sadly Vision replies, “I do hope so.” With a slight turn of his head, Vision questions, “Are you feeling alright, Bruce?”

Taken aback, the biologist awkwardly answers, “Yes?”

“You look rather faint. Perhaps you’d like to sit down?”

Blinking a few times Bruce replies, “Sure? I mean, yeah. Yeah, sitting down sounds good.” He shuffles over to the nearest chair, all while picking at his thumbs, squinting a bit when he peels off a good part of a cuticle and feels the blood begin to pool. To make matters worse, Vision comes over and look straight at him for a steady six seconds before Bruce has to question, “Um, why are you staring at me?”

Looking apologetic Vision answers, “I was diagnosing your problem. Are you feeling lethargic?”

Okay, Tony was  _ definitely  _ wrong. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to Vision. “Um, I mean maybe? It’s not anything bad, by any means,”

Vision nods a bit before beginning a staring contest at the wall.

Bruce looks at the wall and Vision, and then the wall again, just to make sure he’s not missing anything. 

Causing Bruce to flinch, Vision suddenly turns to him and announces, “You haven’t eaten anything in quite some time, and you have recently woken up after becoming the Hulk. You are dehydrated and in desperate need of sugars and proteins. Wait here, I will return shortly.”

With that, Vision floats off into the ceiling this time, and Bruce is left dumbstruck with his own devices. Looking down at his thumb he awkwardly dabs the small pool of blood with the corner of cuff of the jacket, not caring about the hygiene. The jacket has seen much worse than a few drops of blood. 

This time, when Vision comes back, he takes the elevator. 

Bruce will never understand this being.

Vision sits down next to Bruce with a glass of orange juice and two protein bars. He holds them out and Bruce takes the orange juice.

The biologist takes tentative sips, having not tasted orange juice for, well, probably around a decade at this point. He forgot how damn sweet it is. 

“Is it okay?” Vision asks, visibly concerned.

Bruce nods in between sips, not realizing until now how thirsty he was until now. 

“Please,” The being starts, holding out a protein bar. “Eat too. You must be very hungry. Have you eaten since you arrived from Alaska?”

Bruce shakes his head, taking a protein bar from Vision’s grasp.

Looking genuinely surprised, Vision exclaims, “Well you must need a full meal then! Especially after your Hulk-out.”

Instead of agreeing, Bruce questions, “How do you know that I get low blood sugar after a Hulk-out?”

“I have the available memories of JARVIS, and the knowledge of Friday, along with my own will to learn more. Using that, along with a bit of deduction, I believe that you need extra ailment to stay healthy. And with the new information of the lack of food, I am certain that you need to eat.

“I believe there is extra leftovers in the fridge. Would you like for me to fetch them?”

Bruce easily shakes his head. After barely eating in his ‘sabbatical’, as Tony called it, he’s in no mood to stuff himself now.

Vision doesn’t look the happiest about it, but he doesn’t push. “Will you at least finish the glass of juice and the protein bars?”

“Yeah.” Bruce agrees, and gets a small smile from Vision.

The doctor east and sips his drink in silence, when Vision asks him, “Would you like a band-aid?”

“What?”

“Your thumb is bleeding, but barely. I believe that calls for a band-aid.” Vision simply states.

“Oh. Sure. But I mean, you don’t have to, it’s not a necessary thing, but if you want to, I’m not gonna stop you,” Bruce rambles on, until he makes a conscious effort to shut up.

Vision leaves without a word, and comes back,  _ through the fucking wall again _ , carrying a container of band-aids. 

Silently, Bruce takes on and sticks it on his thumb, rubbing the sticky parts for good measure. 

The two men, er, man and being, sit together, neither of them wanting to start a conversation. Eventually Friday speaks up, making Bruce jump a bit.

“Doctor Banner, Boss is requesting your presence.”

“Okay.” Bruce quietly answers, and then turns to Vision. “Well, uh, duty calls.”

Vision agrees, “It does. I will see you later. Please consider eating more, Bruce.” He adds, worry creeping up in his voice.

As he leaves through the elevator, Bruce says, “I will. Thanks, Vision.”

“My pleasure.” 

When he steps in the elevator he heavily leans on the wall, pressure building behind his eyes. Absentmindedly he rubs at his temples, thinking about some aspirin.

Friday leads him to the room in the med bay, although Bruce is already understanding the maze that’s the Stark Tower.

When he comes back to the room, Tony looks a bit better, but definitely more annoyed. Rhodes sits in the chair the Banner used to occupy, looking absolutely pissed.

“Heyyy, Brucie Bear.” Tony notes his presence, drawing out the ‘hey’ for much too long.

“Hey Tony. Rhodes.” Bruce says, nodding to both. 

Not wasting any time, the Colonel starts, “Tony has agreed-” the mentioned party gives a huff at the ‘agreed’ part, but Rhodes still continues, “agreed that he would ‘get help remembering to take his medication’ from you.”

Bruce nods, satisfied. “That sounds good. I’d love to help.”

From the bed, Tony mutters something along the lines of “not a child”, but Rhodes sends him a dirty look which shuts him up. 

Evidently done with reprimanding Tony, Rhodes pats his friend’s knee and declares, “Right. I’m going to go locate and throw out all of the alcohol in this fucking tower.”

Tony immediately argues. “What? No! Aww, c’mon Rhodey. I’ll do better.”

Sternly, Rhodes retaliates, “No more chances, Tones. That’s what you said last time, and look where that got you.”

Bruce interjects, “‘Last time’?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tony replies before Rhodes can say anything.

Sighing, the Colonel says, “I gave you a chance, Tones, and this morning you fucked up, so no more chances, understand?” Tony grumbles, and like a stern parent, Rhodey asks again, “Do you understand? I’m not letting you take any more chances, ‘specially ‘cause my damn override codes don’t work anymore.” Pausing to give the engineer another disapproving look, Rhodes adds, “Once you feel better we’re having a very important conversation about that.” He turns to leave, before smirking and saying, “Oh by the way, I’ve limitted your lab time to ten hours a day. Love you honey bear!” He yells, after already exiting the room, not giving Tony time to complain about the lab.

“What?! No! Noooooo! No, no, no, no, that is not- you have crossed a line, Rhodey!” Huffing, Tony faces his fellow scientist, and opens his mouth to complain, before taking in his complexity. “Brucie?”

Shaking his head to rid the dizziness Bruce replies, “Uh, Yeah?”

“You’re looking a bit pale there, big guy. Are you feeling alright?”

The smaller man nods and leans against the wall. “Peachy. How are  _ you  _ feeling though? You probably need something to eat. No, definitely need something to eat. After all of those drinks,” Bruce notes, about to turn around to find a kitchen.

“Wait,” Tony says, sitting up in the bed with a wince. “I’m fine. Vision stopped by before you woke up and got me some easy foods. Gotta love ‘em crackers, right?”

Bruce tries to give a lazy grin, and settles himself against the wall again.

Both of the scientists stare at each other, guilt eating away respectfully. Tony speaks first, “Bruce, seriously. Sit down, before you fall down. I’ve seen ghosts with more color than you.” The billionaire adds a Tony Stark Grin (trademark) and Bruce sits down in the chair next to Tony’s bed. 

Well, ‘sit’ is a strong word. ‘Collapse’ may suit the situation better.

With a mock serious face Tony pulls out the container of crackers and asks with absolutely no emotion, “Crackers?” He then takes one himself and puts it in his mouth, chewing as slowly and loudly as he can, determined to get some smile out of his friend. 

Once the cracker becomes a disgusting paste in his mouth, Tony finally swallows it and asks, “C’mon Brucie Bear. What’s up? Now I’m starting to think you’re actually a ghost.”

Rather than replying, Bruce stares straight at Tony, a sleepy confusion causing him to blink slowly.

“Bruce?” The engineer snaps a finger near his nose. “Brucie? Banner? Doctor Banner? Big green? Jolly green? Jolly rancher? Green apple jolly rancher?” Running out of nicknames, Tony is forced to show his concern like a normal human being. “Bruce! Answer me? What’s happening?” Mutely, Tony remembers that Bruce sometimes had silent panic attacks, but no other symptoms were showing. 

“Tony?” The doctor finally asks, sounding small and quiet, making Tony want to get out of the bed and hug him.

“Yeah, it’s just me. What’s, er, are you okay?”

“Tony,” Bruce says again, panic seeping in. “Tony, my, my arms.” He states, staring beneath the jacket, out of Tony’s view.

The engineer nearly shoots out of bed, IV line pulling at his arms and shoves down the sleeves of the jacket. But it looks the same to Tony. The same medical grade stitches and the same perfectly parallel cuts. Not knowing what he’s supposed to be looking for, Tony asks, “What’s wrong Bruce?”

“My arms,” He repeats, trailing off, breathing quickening a bit.

Gulping, Tony tries, “Bruce, remember? You, you, ah, cut yourself? In Alaska?”

The biologist nods, and mutters, “No, no, no, I know. It’s just, I, I,”

Worried from the stutters, Tony lightly cups his friend’s face and says, “Hey? Bruce, it’s okay. You’re okay. Remember, I’m gonna get you through this, yeah? Hey now, don’t look at your arms. Look at me, my charming face. C’mon.”

Finally staring into Tony’s eyes, the engineer sees pure worry in his friend’s eyes. “Bruce?”

“They can’t, they can’t be here. Tony, Tony, they can’t be here!”

“Okay, Brucie Bear, you need to get your breathing a bit slower, okay? Take some deep breaths and explain what you mean. Can you do that for me?”

The doctor takes some gulps of air, before looking even more panicky than before, and says again, “They can’t be there, Tony.”

“I know, I know Bruce, okay?” He soothes, even though he doesn’t actually know why Bruce is convinced they can’t be there. Pulling the jacket sleeves back over his arms so Bruce can’t see the incisions, Tony asks, “Friday, call Rhodey down here please.”

“Okay, Boss.” Friday’s voice comes out, devoid of emotion, even though JARVIS would’ve conveyed emotion- Tony stops his thoughts of JARVIS and focuses again on Bruce. “Okay, Brucie, I’m gonna need you to expand a bit, okay? We’re both scientists, and you have to expand on your ideas and data, alright?” He asks, trying from a logical standpoint.

Bruce’s face pales a bit more, if it’s possible, and his fear is starting to make Tony himself anxious. “It can’t be there,” Bruce mutters again, and Tony pulls the other man onto the bed, hoping it will help.

“We’re gonna breathe, together now, okay? Some nice soothing breaths.” Tony can feel his own heartbeat accelerating and his friend’s worry, and tries to hug him closer.

They breathe for a minute or two, Bruce occasionally muttering how the cuts can’t be there. Each time Tony replies with an equally quiet, “It’s okay,” or “I understand,” until Rhodes arrives.

“Tony?” The Colonel asks, seeing the biologist squished against his friend, breathing shallow and erratic.

Not wanting to disturb his friend, Tony mouths to Rhodes, “Help” before lightly playing with the curls on the other scientist’s head.

Rhodes grab’s the water Tony drank out of when he awoke, and coaxes Bruce to take some sips out of it. 

“Hey Bruce?” Rhodes asks, using the most calm voice Tony has ever heard. “You want to tell us what’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

Banner looks up, and he looks terrified. He’s grabbing and rubbing the sheets so hard that his knuckles turn red, then white, and Tony awkwardly pulls his hands off and holds them instead.

The biologist looks up at Tony and shakily whispers, “They can’t, they can’t be there.”

“I know, Brucie, I know.”

“They  _ shouldn’t _ be there,” Bruce says this time, and Tony counts it as progress.

Prompting him, Tony gently asks, “Why shouldn’t they be there, Bruce?”

“Because,” Bruce starts, squeezing on Tony’s hand in fear. “Because I became the Hulk. They, they, they shouldn’t last.”

All of the air leaves Tony’s limited lungs, and he looks up to Rhodey, who’s looking back at Tony with the same realization.

In typical Stark fashion, Tony mutters, “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally hit my chapter goal of 5000+ words. The support you guys give me makes me feel like rainbows and cupcakes, so please keep it coming! It truly, truly makes my day! Love you all <3
> 
> Also- Sneak Peak- Our favorite Spider-Boy meets Bruce! (And fangirls a bit, I mean, c'mon, he's Peter Parker)


	4. A Medical Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens and Bruce's medical mysteries aren't limited to one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo some cute Spider-boy in this chapter.
> 
> Also- you guys are really great! Every time I see someone comment it makes my cold, dead, heart grow! 
> 
> Okay and now the thing that I've been forgetting to put in my author's note since Ch 1: Basically I tried to stay on the normal MCU timeline as best as I could, but it's not perfect. For one, the tower is still where they live (if you haven't figured that one out yet), but the end of Spider-Man: Homecoming also still happened... Even though there was no moving... Yeah. Figure that one out yourself lol.
> 
> Secondly, alcohol withdrawal begins in this chapter. Based on the amount of alcohol Tony consumes regularly, going 'cold turkey' would kill him. Lucky for you guys- it's a fanfic! So don't worry, he'll just experience some symptoms other than death. Good times. 
> 
> ((also i fucking love writing dreams, so there will be more to follow))
> 
> Okay sorry for the long note please read and enjoy!

After the grave realization, Tony rips out his IV (much to Rhodes’ distaste), and pulls Bruce completely onto the bed. Lucky thing about the Stark Med Bay - the beds are actually decent size, so it’s not too uncomfortable.

Along with a few more repetitions and stutters, Bruce’s shakes and quick breathing die down, and he doses off. Maybe not “doses off”. It’s probably closer to “passes out due to a combination of shock, malnutrition, and general exhaustrion”. Whatever works though, right?

However it happens, Bruce’s breathing eventually evens out, and the engineer makes quick work of the things around him.

“Honey Bear” He whisper shouts, “Get some gatorade or something and those protein bars that I seem to inhale from the lab.” Then, quickly regretting this, Tony states, “Actually no, get Vis to do those things; you need to be resting. Go find a couch or something.”

Rhodes replies, but Tony is already too absorbed in his next task to care, so he simply waves the Colonel out.

The billionaire then pulls off the electrodes from his chest and gingerly sticks them on his friend, careful to keep his Green Bean asleep. Once the primitive machines are showing Bruce’s heart rate and pulse, Tony whispers, “Fri, bring up Brucie’s vitals on my tablet, please.”

Instantly, the once discarded tablet in the room displays a holographic image. “Search for any abnormalities.” Tony winces at the words. “Well,” He corrects, “Any abnormalities to Bruce’s already abnormal body.”

“Beginning search now.” Friday announces, but something sounds off.

It doesn’t take long for the genius to pinpoint the difference. And he glows with pride when he does.

Friday had quieted down without anyone telling her to, because  _ she  _ recognized the sleeping figure.

_ Baby’s growing up, _ Stark thinks, before turning his attention back to the person who needs it the most.

Bruce looks… Surprisingly peaceful, given the situation. Besides the occasional flicker of movement behind the biologist’s eyelids, he looks comfortable. The last beads of sweat evaporate from his forehead, and his cuticles get a short break from the constant assault on them. 

Tony smiles, and eases himself out of the other side of the bed. Other than a small sleepy groan, the biologist doesn’t seem to notice the lack of presence, and certainly doesn’t wake up.

Tony breathes a sigh of relief.

Barefooted, the billionaire pads around the room, anxiously awaiting Friday’s preliminary scan. Obviously Tony and Bruce would study more, and would get more information from a blood and tissue sample, but later. For now, the simple scan would have to do.

_ Fuck, _ Tony thinks,  _ What I wouldn’t do for a drink right now. _

It’s just then when Vision floats in, carrying protein bars and gatorade. It’s no vodka, but it’ll work for the time being. Especially for Bruce when he wakes up.

“Is Rhodey resting?” Tony questions with a hushed voice.

A second too late Vision answers, “I’m not sure-”

“Bull,” Tony interrupts. “Do me a favor and go find Rhodey and tell him to get his ass on a bed or couch. No rephrasing this time either. Ass. On. Couch.” He adds, giving an extra look of disapproval.

Vision nods, and turns to leave, before suggesting, “I’d recommend that you drink some of that gatorade as well, It won’t be long until withdrawal symptoms begin.” And then like the man he was modeled after, he abruptly leaves, presumably to check up on Rhodey.

Groaning, Tony slouches down into the deserted chair. Right, withdrawal. The engineer remembers withdrawal like the back of his hand. Mainly on how it’s a  _ fucking bitch _ to get through.

_ One hell of a Monday, _ Tony muses. At least he has the rest of the day to work, or at least until Rhodey kicks him out of the lab-

Oh.

It’s Monday.

Which means-

“Friday, is the spiderling coming in today?”

He knows the answer before his AI responds, “Yes, at 3:15 like every other Monday.”

“-like every other Monday.” Tony completes with Friday, running a tired hand through his greasy hair. 

He doesn’t want to cancel with the kid, because he knows how much Peter adores his lab time in the Tower. And hell, Tony enjoys it too. Each conversation with the kid makes Tony feel like his soul is cleaned up just a bit more.

“Scan complete.” Friday announces, bringing Tony out of his trance.

“Any results worth sharing with the class?”

“All of Doctor Banner’s vitals seem to be functioning at a normal adult male with gamma radiation level. I would recommend a more vigorous scan in the future.” Friday helpfully supplies.

Shaking his head Tony mutters, “Damn it. Here I was hoping for the easy way out of this.” Speaking to his unconscious friend, Tony questions, “What the hell is going on in your body, Brucie?”

“Alright, Fri. Keep me updated on Bruce’s vitals. Now where the hell is Rhodey?”

Even though the last bit was rhetorical, the young AI answers, “Colonel Rhodes is currently in the kitchen on the twentieth floor, dumping out your ‘secret’ stash of alcohol.”

The only thing that stops the engineer from yelling at this point is the knowledge that his friend is getting well deserved sleep. Then, sparing on last glance at Bruce, Tony heads out of the door to the twentieth floor.

Other than being a bit shaky in his legs, Tony feels fine, if not a bit energized. Like this morning never happened. 

As soon as the elevator dings open, Tony says, “Honey Bear I need your help.”

“No you can not have a drink even if it’s small.” Rhodes replies, not looking at his old friend.

“No, not that, and honestly sweetheart, I feel a bit attacked,” Tony sarcastically bites. “I need to know what happened this morning.”

Sighing and turning around, Rhodes mutters, “Tony, if I tell you, you’re just going to feel really fucking guilty, like when you learned about Peter.”

Tony’s eyes turn into a cold stare and he hastily replies, “That’s fucking different, and you know it. That was my fault, not looking out for the kid, whereas for this, I just need to know what the Hulk did, or how he acted.”

Although looking unconvinced, Rhodes still answers, “Tony, he’s a giant green rage monster, who destroyed most of your lab and part of the floor above it. How the hell do you think he acted?” The Colonel winces during the statement, and Tony catches it.

“Rhodey sit down. Your legs are obviously bothering you. Go get Vision to throw out the alcohol.” Tony says, all bite gone from his voice, helping his friend to one of the stools in the kitchen. The engineer then takes the stool next to him and asks, “I just need to know if the Hulk acted even a bit differently.”

Rubbing his legs Rhodes replies, “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t have much knowledge of the Hulk in the first place. He called you ‘Puny Tony’ and picked you up. He then broke through the glass and sorta left you there. He spent the rest of the time absolutely demolishing your lab, so it’ll take awhile for that to get fixed.”

“How easily could the Hulk break through the glass?”

Rhodes gives him a questioning look, “He, he’s the Hulk, Tones. How hard do you think it was? He basically hit it with his shoulder and then it shattered.”

“Fuck.”

“Why are you concerned about this?”

Biting his cheeks Tony mumbles, “Because I specifically made that glass to be Hulk proof. Must’ve screwed up the math, or something…” He trails off, obviously annoyed at himself.

“See Tones,” Rhodes points out, “Now you’re just blaming yourself for this. Happens every damn time.”

Head falling into his hands, Tony says, “I either fucked up my math, or something is really, really wrong, Rhodey.”

Nodding shallowly, Rhodes agrees, “I know, Tones. But you’ll figure it out. You always do. Besides, this time you have another genius to help you with it.”

“Yeah.” Tony says, but it doesn’t mean anything to either of the men.

The two friends sit in a comfortable silence, both too absorbed in their thoughts, until Rhodes pulls Tony into a bear hug, surprising the latter.

Almost instantly, the engineer’s emotions start running wild. “Oh God, Rhodey.” He sniffles and continues, “When did this all go to shit? Last Christmas was so fucking perfect. With Pep, and all of the avengers that I dragged to the Tower to force to celebrate with me. When did it all go to shit?”

“I dunno, Tones. But it happened, and we can’t do anything to stop it. We just gotta move on, man. Imagine next Christmas, when everything works itself out. Just have to keep going a bit more, Tones.”

“I can’t anymore, Rhodey Bear. I just can’t.” Tony mutters, breaking the Colonel’s heart. To hear his friend talk like this reminds him of MIT, when the engineer was just a scrawny teenager, growth spurt in the future. Mind completely crushed from the death of his butler. And Rhodes had to get him through that, as well. Driving to him in the middle of nowhere after a drunk phone call. Questioning why the fuck he was out there, tears making puddles. “It’ll be okay, Tones. We’ll fix all of the problems, or they’ll fix themselves. They always do, right?”

“But what if this time they don’t? I have to stop getting lucky at some point, right?” Tony mutters, burying his head in the shoulder of his Rhodey Bear.

Rather than answering, Rhodes just hugs him closer.

The press would have a fucking field day with them. ‘Course if anyone got a picture of this they would have a very “accidental” death not long after.

The two men stay in the embrace, until Rhodes drags Tony to the couch, and puts a blanket around him in a wordless exchange.

The engineer falls asleep within minutes, with the knowledge of Rhodes next to him.

 

~

 

When Tony wakes up, he’s back in old New York. 

His shoulders ache from holding up the nuke destined for the city, and he still has miles of sky to get through.

With one goal in mind he powers his repulsors up and goes straight into the portal in the sky. Everything is dark. Actually no, dark is an understatement.

It’s void of any light. 

Nuke thrown at the Chitauri ‘home’ Tony’s breath quickens, because there’s no way in hell he’ll get back through the portal in time. 

The suit is offline. He can’t tell Pep that he loves her.

He will never show off his tech to the other man who speaks English that he just met. 

He can’t apologize to Captain fucking America for - fine, he’ll admit it - saving his life.

He won’t ever get to pay his respects to Phil Coulson.

He will never truly meet the archer, Clint Barton.

He will never find out who Natasha Romanoff really is.

He will never question Thor of his abilities, or take a look at that incredible hammer.

Darkness

Surrounds

             Him

Tony awakes with a gasp, the Hulk roaring above him. 

Rhodey sighs of relief and looks at him. “You’re alright, Tony. I promise, you’re alright. Back on Earth.”

Begging for breaths, Tony asks, “Wh-why’s the Hulk here?”

With a confused and concerned face Rhodey replies, “Don’t you remember, Tony? He was helping us fight the Chitauri. He caught you when you were falling.”

The engineer is about to ask why Rhodey is there, but abruptly stops.

Out of his peripheral vision, Tony sees Steve Roger’s face. He looks confused as well. “You weren’t supposed to make out alive, Tony.”

Cracking a trademark smile Tony mutters, “I always break the rules,”

Steve just shakes his head. “No, not this time. Being a rule follower is how things get done.” He brings his shield over his head. “I’m sorry Tony, but you were supposed to die.”

Iron Man sees the shield come down on his arc reactor, but never feels it.

Tony Stark wakes up, a scream lost in his throat.

Rhodes immediately comes over. “Tony.  _ Tony. _ Look at me.”

But the engineer can’t, because this is also a trick on his consciousness. “Where’s Steve?” He blurts out, headache stopping his mind-to-mouth filter.

“Steve?” Rhodes’ face scrunches up. “Tony, he’s far away. He can’t hurt you here. Look at me, look at my face.”

“You were there, you let him,” Replies, instead of look at his friend’s face.

“Tony, look at my legs. Look at the metal braces around them. Why the fuck would I have them on if Germany didn’t happen?” The Colonel knows his legs are a sore spot in Tony’s head, but it’s the only thing he can think of. “Remember, Germany happened, and then the other avengers left, right? Including Steve. He left.”

Tony stares at the braces for a few minutes and quietly asks, “It’s February?” 

Sliding down onto the couch next to his panicked friend Rhodes agrees, “Yeah, it’s February. February sixth. Pepper’s in California finishing a conference, Vision is in the building, and Bruce is resting in the Med Bay.”

“Not the Hulk?” Tony squeezes out between his quick breaths.

“Not the Hulk,” Rhodes confirms. “Just a scientist.”

Tony nods, and pushes his hands under the blanket so Rhodes can’t see them shaking.

“Tones, you need to calm down a bit, okay? Let’s start with breathing. We’re both gonna breath nice and slow. Can you tell me why breathing slowly is better?”

Almost reflexively Tony replies, “Because our cells need oxygen to function, and breathing in slow, deep breaths gives the most oxygen.”

“Perfect. Now, deep, deep breaths.”

The two spend minutes breathing slowly, until Tony mutters, “That was- fuck. At least it didn’t fucking involve my parents this time.”

“What did you dream?” Rhodey asks, putting emphasis on ‘dream’ to further push the fact that it wasn’t real.

“The wormhole. And Siberia. All in one fun package.”

Rhodes wants to kill Rogers. It’s no surprise to anyone. “God Tones, I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault.” The engineer replies. “Never your fault.” Then, before his friend can argue he asks, “How long did I sleep?”

“‘Bout two hours.”

Tony raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah. Took awhile for you to dream, I guess.”

The billionaire nods. “So what, it’s like one o’clock now?”

Glancing at a clock Rhodey supplies, “2:10, actually.”

“What the fuck?”

“It was already well past eleven when you fell asleep.”

“Oh.” Tony elegantly responds. “Is Bruce up?”

The Colonel shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve been here the whole time, resting my legs like you’ve been drilling me to.”

“Good. Friday,” Tony starts, “Where’s Bruce?”

“Doctor Banner has been awake for the past thirty minutes and is currently down in your old lab, assessing the damage.”

Rubbing a hand down his face, Tony replies, “Fuck. It’s like he wants to constantly feel guilty or something.”

Snorting, Rhodes notes, “Well, I know where he gets it from.”

“Oh c’mon, Rhodey. I’m not as bad as Bruce. He hides out in third world countries because he feels guilty.”

Rhodes counters, “You hide out in your lab.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

Standing up, letting the blanket pool at his feet Tony mumbles, “Whatever. I’m going to go stop his guilt trip while I still can. Keep resting your legs, Honey Bear.”

Rhodes just rolls his eyes and massages his temples in an effort to rid the headache that’s rapidly forming.

Tony takes the elevator, and rubs a hand at his stomach, withdrawal symptoms already starting.  _ Great.  _ He goes to the floor above the lab, and sees the hole in the floor. A suspicious Hulk shaped hole. 

Despite the engineer’s age, he easily drops down the hole to the carnage that was once called his lab. Tables aren’t just flipped over, they’re ripped in half like soft butter, glass covers the floor in a thin sparkly sheet, and his physical work leaves much to the imagination.

Glancing to his left, he sees Bruce lightly kicking a bit of oddly shaped sheet metal, and Tony gives a low whistle. “Well, I’ve been meaning to change up my lab anyway.

“Tony!” Bruce practically squeals, jumping a bit. “Tony, oh God, I’m so sorry, about your lab, it’s completely ruined, and you had so many nice things in here, as well as your greatest inventions, and I just completely destroyed all of them, and-”

The billionaire moves his hands as if cutting off a symphony to shut his friend up. “Aaaaand, that is precisely why I came down here. One, I don’t blame you. Two, I don’t blame you. And can you guess what three is?”

Bruce grumbles something, but Tony continues anyway. Three,  _ I don’t fucking blame you _ . This,” He pauses to look around once more, “Is not your fault. Okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“That doesn’t sound like you understand. Bruce, look at me,”

Shyly, Bruce turns to face Tony in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we’re going to be able to create a better, bigger, more awesome lab.”

“‘More awesome’ lab?”

“Shut up. I’m good with words.”

Bruce gives a small grin, but it seemingly lights up the room. “Do you know where the fire extinguisher is?” Bruce asks, out of the blue.

“...No? Is there a fire?”

Bruce quickly shakes his head. “Fire? No, there’s no fire. But Dum-E’s been patting out ‘fire extinguisher’ in morse code since I’ve come down here.” 

Sure enough, when Tony looks to the edge of the lab, Dum-E is patting his claw on the wall, spelling out “fire extinguisher” repeatedly.

“I swear to God, Dum-E,” Tony starts, with a fond discipline. “Your relationship with that fire extinguisher is not healthy. But I’ll give one to you, just because you’re feeling anxious.” At that, Dum-E gives a happy whir and spins around. Suddenly confused, Tony asks his ‘bot, “Wait, when did you learn morse code?”

Friday’s voice comes through, although staticy, and says, “I taught him a month ago, Boss.”

The engineer throws his hands up in mock disbelief and asks, “Why the hell did you teach Dum-E morse code?”

“You installed a protocol to let me communicate with the ‘bots and teach them.”

“So, of course, naturally you’d teach Dum-E morse code?”

“Yes, Boss.” Friday answers, as if it’s the most normal conversation in the world.

Shaking his head, Tony looks over to Bruce and says, “See? This is what I live with. Constantly. No breaks from these guys.”

Failing at covering his smile, Bruce replies, “To be fair Tony, you did build them yourself. You could disband them just as easy.”

Dum-E gives a panicked chirp, and Tony says, “Don’t worry Dum-E. You’d go to a community college before I took you apart.” Everyone (living or not) knows it isn’t true though. After his Malibu mansion was destroyed, the first thing Tony did was rebuild Dum-E.

Turning more seriously, Tony makes his way over to Bruce and asks, “How are you feeling? Better? Still tired? Sick?”

“Tony I’m fine.” Bruce answers, stopping his natural reflex to step away from the person coming toward him.

“Are you sure?” The engineer inquires, putting the back of his hand on Bruce’s forehead.

“Tony!” Bruce mutters, slapping his hand away. “I said I feel fine. I don’t even feel the effects of the Hulk anymore.”

The other party doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. “So. How about that fire extinguisher?”

Bruce laughs before he can stop himself, and sets off looking under the destroyed lab for the object. Eventually, he sees a red glint under some cracked glass. “Found it,” He announces, catching the attention of Tony and the bot.

The engineer walks over the other scientist and agrees, “Yep. That’s it. Gonna be real fun to dig out.” He mutters sarcastically.

Bruce snorts into his curls, and helps Tony pick up the glass. 

“Fuck,” Bruce swears, dropping a section, and inspecting his hand.

“You alright, Brucie?” Tony asks, alarmed.

Poking at the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, Bruce answers, “Yeah, fine. Just nicked my hand, that’s all.”

Tony nods and looks at his bot. “You better appreciate this, Dum-E. Bruce is putting his blood sweat and tears into your beloved fire extinguisher.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, and they finally pull it out.

The device itself is in surprisingly good shape, given the state of the rest of the lab. The nozzle is a bit… incerated (ironic, given the device’s purpose), but the rest of it is fine. Barely dented.

Tony tosses it to his bot and says, “There you go, big baby.”

In turn, Dum-E spins happily in a circle.

Bruce stares at it and mutters, “What the hell.”

Tony grins and says, “Let’s go wrap your hand now, big guy.”

Bruce shakes his head and replies, “It’s fine. I barely scratched it, anyway.”

Raising his eyebrows Tony points at his friend’s hand and questions, “Is that so?”

The doctor then looks down at his hand and blinks twice. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a bit deeper than I thought it was.”

“So, back to the med bay?”

“Yeah.” Bruce agrees. “Feels like I live there, at this point.”

Tony nods, “I hear you. We’ll make an effort to keep you out of it, sound good?”

“Mmhm.”

The engineer takes another look at his hand and says, “Seriously, Bruce, does your blood clot? That’s bleeding like a bitch.”

“Shit, yeah, that’s bad.” Bruce mutters, blood starting to drip down onto the floor. “I never bleed this bad,”

Tony ignores the comment and asks, “The other guy isn’t gonna make an appearance, right?” Better be safe than sorry.

“No yeah, I got him. Not gonna come out.”

“Right.” Tony says, attempting to keep the worry out of his voice. “Ah, shit.”

“What?”

“The only way out of here is through the hole in the ceiling. I assume you also climbed down from there?”

Bruce nods. “Yep. Not very elegantly though. I hope Friday didn’t see it.”

Upon hearing her voice Friday says, “The recordings from today are stored in February Sixth file, would you like to see them?”

Tony says, “Atta girl, Fri,”

Just as Bruce’s face turns red and says, “No, no, definitely not.”

All joking aside, Tony then wanders into his lab without another word.

“Tony?” Bruce questions.

To reply, the engineer comes back dragging a broken down counter top. “Can you reach the next floor if you stand on this?”

Bruce eyes and and says, “Probably if I jump.”

Smiling Tony claps his hands together and says, “Wonderful. Now, up you go. I’ll be right behind you, I pinkie promise.”

The biologist nods and hauls himself up to the higher floor, leaving an ugly blood stain on the floor. Tony then gets himself up and mutters, “Bye bye, Dum-E. I’ll be back soon. If you’re bored, talk to Friday.”

When they both stand up and head to the elevator Bruce mutters, “This is bleeding worse than I thought. Maybe there’s glass still in there?”

“God, I hope not. That’d be a pain in both of our asses to dig out.” Tony replies, inspecting the hand. “Jesus that is bad. Are you feeling light headed?”

With disbelief Bruce says, “It’s not that bad, Tony. I could bleed like this for another hour and still be fine.”

“Not as comforting as you might think, Green Bean,” Tony mutters, dragging him to the med bay once the elevator opens. “C’mon. Back to your favorite room.”

Bruce wordlessly follows his friend, taking his hand back from his grasp.

“Alright, wash it out a bit, just so we can see what the hell is going on there.” Bruce is stupidly grateful Tony said “we” rather than “I”. It’s like Trust Issues City in here.

Once there’s a bit less blood on his hand Friday suddenly announces, “Boss, Spider-Boy is requesting permission to arrive earlier.”

“Spider-Boy?” Bruce questions.

Smirking Tony replies, “I made Friday call him that. And Fri, doesn’t he have school?”

“Boss, schools in the area were canceled today.”

“Why?”

“There’s a foot of snow on the ground.” Friday answers, and Bruce would smack his head with his hand, had it not been covered in blood.

Tony looks out the window, and sure enough, there’s snow. A lot. “Well, I looked outside at some point. Didn’t think it continued snowing. Sure, Fri, send Happy to go pick him up.” 

“Hey Tony,” Bruce starts, when the AI doesn’t reply. “Where are the tweezers?”

“There’s still glass in there?”

“Yeah.” Bruce dryly answers, wiping off excess blood. And sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Fucking shit. Okay.” The engineer curses, grabbing a first-aid kit from the overhead cabinet. He takes the tweezers out and brings them near Bruce’s hand when the biologist pulls back and quietly asks, “Can, uh, can I?”

Feeling rather stupid, Tony quickly hands the tweezers to Bruce’s good hand and apologizes, “Oh yeah. Sorry. Just if you need any help, I’m here.”

Before Bruce can say anything else Friday interrupts, “Boss-”

“What now, Fri?”

“Spider-Boy is already outside. He came over here to ask.”

“The fuck? Let him in then! What the hell is the kid doing out there in a foot of snow anyway? Why didn’t he call me?” Pausing he adds, “Oh, and Friday, don’t let him go to the lab, he doesn’t have to see that,” Bruce shrinks down at the comment, “instead, just send him up here.”

“Certainly, Boss.”

“Have a suture kit in there too?” Bruce says, gasping in the middle of the sentence when he pulls out the small piece of glass. 

Looking over at the bloody hand Tony asks, “Shit, that bad?”

“Not particularly, but the bleeding isn’t going down. I’m not really sure why.”

With a grim face, Tony pulls out the medical thread and needle. “Can I help, this time? It’s not really a one hand job.”

Bruce doesn’t point out the fact that in Gujarat he stitched himself with one hand more than once, and slowly nods, consenting.

“Thanks, Brucie Bear.”

With his other hand Bruce pops and rubs his fingers, anxiety exploding out like a balloon bursting. If Tony notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.

He does, however, point out the band-aid on the injured hand. “Where’d that come from?”

Smiling, Bruce mutters, “Vision requested I put a band-aid on it. Bled a bit when I picked at it.” What Bruce doesn’t know, is that Vision understands that a small cut like that doesn’t need a bandaid. Instead, Vision requested the small bandage to stop the habit of assault on his cuticles. Clever being.

Tony knows though, and mentally reminds himself to give Vision a high five or something.

“Mr. Stark!” Comes a happy voice, slightly cracking in the middle, making Banner jump, and Stark fondly sigh.

“Come in, Peter.” Turning around to see him, he adds, “And take off that jacket. Fri, raise the temp a few degrees in here. Why the hell didn’t you just call me?” Tony questions, while Bruce still sits on the edge of the bed looking confused.

Shifting from foot to foot Peter answers, “Oh, I, well, kindofmaybesortofbrokemycellphone.”

“Does Aunt May know?”

“No? At least, I hope not.”

“Good. Don’t stress her about it. I got about a trillion more for you.”

Peter’s face lights up. “Oh, really, Mr. Stark? Thank you!”

Tony smiles at the kid and says, “Alright, well as much as I’d like for this lovely exchange to continue, I have to give stitches to my dear friend.”

“Oh, sorry. I can go wait outside,” Peter says, turning to leave.

Bruce then speaks up, “No, that’s alright. I don’t mind.” He slightly does, but he also doesn’t want to push the kid out. Not a great first impression. Although then again, getting stitches in front of someone doesn’t give the greatest first impression either.

Tony grins and says, “Great, now I’ll get teach you how to stitch up skin. It’s real important, Peter. Never know when you’ll get to use it.”

Peter nods, while Bruce still looks confused. He can’t believe this kid is Spider-Man. Heroes start young, he supposes. God knows when Natasha began.

After giving simple instructions and giving a local anesthetic to Bruce, Tony goes about stitching it up.

The entire process takes minutes at most, but Bruce still feels his anxiety slowly climbing. Tony notices it too.

“Okay!” The engineer announces, slumping down into a chair. “Brucie, this is Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man. Peter, this is Doctor Bruce Banner, when he’s not the Hulk.” Banner winces at the introduction, but gets a pleasant response out of Peter.

“Really? Cool, I thought so! I knew I recognized your face. I’ve tried to read a few of your papers, Doctor Banner, and they’re really complex, I couldn’t understand at least half of it! My chemistry teacher really likes your work too!”

Bruce glances worriedly to Tony, to which the engineer replies, “Yeah. He’s always like this. Even after you take him for a walk.” He teases.

“Hey!” Peter interjects.

Grinning, Tony says, “See? He even gets excited when you say the ‘w’ word.”

Changing the subject Peter asks, “What happened to your hand?” Thick with curiosity.

“I cut it.” Bruce simply states.

“On what?”

“Glass.”

“When?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago? Why-”

“What were you doing?”

Seeing Bruce getting flustered, Tony says, “Ooookay, kid, take a breather. Go wait outside. The adults have to talk now. Find Rhodey or something, he needs to be cheered up.”

Peter looks disappointed for a second before smiling again. “Okay! Are we gonna go to the lab soon?”

“Sure kid,” Tony answers to get him out of his hair, which evidently works. He closes the door after he leaves and as soon as it clicks shut, Tony wastes no time. “Can I check your arms?”

Bruce visibly flinches back before he can stop it and murmurs something inaudible.

Changing his question Tony asks, “I’m not even gonna look at them hard. Okay? Just a quick peek to make sure they’re also not bleeding. To make sure the thin blood thing only happened in your hand.” He clarifies.

Eventually Bruce nods, knowing he’s not going to win the battle.

To the relief of both of the scientists, Bruce’s arms aren’t bleeding. The incisions are still there though, so the relief was short lived. Neither of them comment on it though.

“Here,” Tony says, tossing some gauze at the smaller man. “Just in case the coat slips. I mean, Vis and Rhodey know - sorry about that - but I assume you don’t want the kid to know.”

So much for anonymity. “Yeah. Okay,” Bruce says peeling the gauze from the roll.

With a smile Tony says, “It’s nice to know you kept my jacket all this time.”

Bruce stops dead in his movements, almost dropping the gauze to the ground. Instead it lands on the bed next to his leg.

“What?”

“Your jacket? It’s my old suit jacket. After your last Hulk-out when we were dealing with Ultron, I gave it to you, because you looked cold. Next thing I know, you bamboozled me along with the rest of the team, and poof! You were gone.”

“...Oh.” Bruce mutters, suddenly feeling extraordinarily self-conscious about wearing the article of clothing.

Tony notices this and says, “Hey man, it’s okay. That jacket has been with you to Hell and back, you can keep it.”

“Okay,”

“Now c’mon,” Tony says, giving him a hand off the bed, even though Bruce could’ve stood up just fine himself. “Let’s go talk to Petey. Legend says that each time you make him smile your soul shines just a bit brighter.”

Bruce grins at the joke, but he certainly doesn’t doubt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sort of considering writing a little one-shot about Rhodes comforting Tony after Jarvis died (the human), like which was sort of mentioned in this chapter, and if you'd like to read that, just comment! 
> 
> Love you guys! <3


	5. Slowly Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony enters the depressive parts of bipolar disorder and Bruce barely talks.

The rest of the day went swimmingly.

Peter quickly bonded with Bruce, both geeking out on different types of webs and web shooters, causing Tony to fondly smile.

The lab was still in shambles, but, like most things in his life, the engineer had a backup. Slightly smaller, yes, but it was still probably one of the best in the world.

Life was just lovely for the two scientists. Both of them ignored the looming threat of alcohol withdrawal affecting Tony, and whatever the hell is going on with Bruce’s body.

Pepper sent a quick email, stating that she had to stay a few extra days in California, and Tony didn’t continue reading far enough to know why. Besides, Friday knows, so worst comes to worst, he’ll just ask his AI.

 

_ Tony, _

_ I’ll be out next week trying to clean up a bit of the press coverage about the past month. I’ll be home soon though, so try not to get yourself killed along the way. If you have any inputs about stock, please tell me before the next day. Tell Bruce that I look forward to seeing him.  _

_ Virginia Potts, CEO _

 

Now that Bruce is taking up a possibly permanent residence in the Tower, sleep schedules have greatly improved. Vision has even taken it upon himself to not be up and about at God-Knows o’clock in an effort to help Tony learn that night = sleep time.

Both of the scientists never get too much sleep though. Not by a long shot.

Tony’s nightmares and insomnia keep him awake, and Bruce’s constant anxiety make it hard for him to feel comfortable enough to close an eye, let alone both. As far as he’s concerned, he’s even closer to Ross than he was in India. Of course, he’s also safer than when he was in Gujarat, but try telling his brain that.

The engineer’s been on an almost non-stop complaining train about his stomach, or head, to which he is condemned to bed rest. He’s hallucinated twice, but Bruce assured a worried Rhodes and Vision that hallucinations occur after alcohol withdrawal, and could continue for up to weeks.

“ _ JARVIS, turn off the lights to a glow. No, just down fifty percent. Help my fucking headache maybe.” _

_ Instead, Friday answers, “Boss, I am Friday. Reducing lights. Would you like me to tell Doctor Banner or Colonel Rhodes about your headache?” _

_ “Fri? But I heard JARVIS a second ago.” _

_ “I’m afraid not, Boss. May I have permission to alert one of the people in the building?” _

_ Tony gives a glare to one of Friday’s cameras. “What? No. Absolutely not. It’s just a light pounding of a jackhammer behind my eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary.” _

 

A few times Bruce wakes up feeling terribly sick, but then feels better within the hour. Other times he’s gotten dizzy spells, clutching the nearest object in hopes of staying upright. All was well until his worst one, when he ended up on the floor. The good doctor gives an excuse of not eating lately. Somehow, Rhodey, who had been conversing with him at the time, bought the excuse.

 

_ “How are the legs, Colonel?” _

_ Rhodes chuckles, “Bruce, we’re living in the same building. You can call me James, or at least just Rhodes. And pretty good today, thanks for asking.” _

_ Bruce hides a blush of embarrassment underneath his curls. “Oh. Okay. And that’s good to hear. I know that Tony was trying to build a new pair of braces, because those ones were, quote, ‘Primitive beasts that need to be changed’.” _

_ Rhodes fondly smiles and says, “Typical Tony. I’ll make sure to tell him that these ones are just fine.” _

_ Bruce moves to nod, but the action throws his mind off track, and he’s overcome with a spout of dizziness. With his depth perception out of whack, the biologist completely misses the counter top and he nearly face plants on the kitchen floor.  _

_ Luckily, Rhodes is there to catch him right before his forehead gets a new friend. _

_ “Bruce?” The Colonel worriedly inquires, helping him sit up on the floor. _

_ “Uhg. Sorry. I’m okay now. I don’t know what that was.” Bruce says, and it’s not even a lie.  _

_ Rhodes doesn’t believe it though, and calls, “Friday, get Tony out here.” _

 

Out of fear for his science bro’s forehead, Tony nearly baby proofs all of the Tower. Luckily, Rhodes has a rational conversation and stops him from doing so.

Peter came back on Saturday, because his Aunt was out working yet another job, and he had nothing better to do. For hours, the three of them tried to clean up the lab, and salvaged a few inventions. Unfortunately, there was still most of the lab, which was completely destroyed.

Tony spent the entire time attempting to use electromagnets to clean up, which took longer to do than actually clean up.

Peter spent every other second picking up a part of an invention, asking what it used to do, and exclaiming, “Cool!” 

  
  


_ “A gun that can determine the melting point of any object! That’s awesome!”. _

 

Bruce spent his time on a guilt train en route to Guilt Town. The engineer noticed it though, and would occasionally pick something up and mutter about how he needed to get rid of it anyway. Bruce appreciated the effort.

One night Tony makes it apparent that he’s not going to let Bruce sleep until he checks on his arms for infections, despite Bruce’s protests. Unfortunately, the doctor isn’t a stranger to sleep deprivation, so hours and hours pass onto the night and early morning.

Eventually he makes an agreement with his friend: He’ll let Tony check his arms as long as he too, goes to bed. Unsurprisingly, the engineer rebuttals, saying how he wasn’t tired, and got extra sleep the previous night. It’s a Mexican Standoff of sorts between two of the most stubborn people in the word, until Rhodes sees them still up and yells at them both.

Arms are checked and heads hit pillows not long after that. The Colonel just has a way with words.

When Pepper comes home, she spends her time pampering Bruce and telling Tony that he doesn’t take good enough care of himself. 

Between Rhodes and Pepper, Bruce has gotten the best hospitality in probably his entire life. 

At first Bruce doesn’t know how to handle it, but then he realizes that this is what it might be like to have a family. It’s… Strange. It’s very strange.

Before he knows it, the doctor even has a nice schedule going on, and it’s a hell of a lot healthier than when he was in Asia. He’s had a couple of close calls, hands absolutely  _ itching _ for a blade in between his fingers, but he really doesn’t want to lose Tony’s trust.

Unfortunately, the ‘close calls’ become reality.

The week in itself was stressful, involving Pepper and Rhodes leaving in and out of the tower on a daily basis. Tony had spent all of his available workshop time attempting to clean out the old one, and create a new one. Bruce sometimes helps, but he gets the feeling that he’s doing more harm than good in that regard. He did buy Dum-E a new fire extinguisher, so that’s something.

He bought it online, of course. Going outside was not something the biologist was ready for. After living in the rural parts of Gujarat for so long, he was not ready to jump out into New York.

That’s how the hellish day started though, thinking about Manhattan.

Too many people, too many buildings, too many cars, too many everything. Bruce had thought about what would happen if the Hulk got out of the Tower.

For one, Thaddeus Ross would definitely find him, and the past two years of anonymity would’ve been for nothing. And then Hulk would wreak havoc on everything and anything around him.

Things would be destroyed, people would be killed, families would be ripped apart.

Escaping his thoughts for a moment, Bruce takes a few deep breaths, attempting to avoid a panic attack.

Part of him wanted to go to Tony; he could always make things better. But the other part of him felt guilty for even thinking about bothering the man while he had his limmited lab time. He knew that Tony loved his lab more than anything else.

Pepper was out somewhere, dealing with stocks, and Rhodes was at PT, walking more comfortably every single day. The tower felt empty, even though mutely he knew that there was still another man and his ‘bots a few floors below.

So he would deal with this problem himself.

Bruce takes the elevator up to his floor, even though it’s nearly empty. He’s made a bit of a home in a bedroom, but the rest of his floor looks like an empty apartment.

He all but slinks to his room, eyes jittery and hands shaking. Every four seconds without fail, he looks behind his shoulder to make sure no one is following him. Fearfully, he shrugs out of his favorite jacket, and tosses it on the bed.

The panicked doctor then takes a glass lamp and easily smashes it against the ground. 

Within seconds he’s relishing the feeling of blood pooling and falling off of the thin skin of his arms.

Over the years, Bruce has learned what triggers the Hulk. He’s a peculiar being, to say the least. Sudden pain will almost immediately trigger the Hulk, but slow, building pain is manageable. Especially if the biologist knows when it’s coming.

The injured man backs himself into a corner and curls on himself, half regretting what he did, and half wanting to cut himself more.

And he has absolutely no idea how he’ll hide this from Tony or how he’ll tell Tony.

Luckily for him, Friday has got that part covered.

The virtuous AI, watching the entire ordeal silently, has already alerted her creator.

The engineer makes it up to Bruce’s floor in record time, dropping whatever piece of equipment he was holding onto in his lab. Friday told him that Bruce was in his room, but at first glance anyone could miss him. Somehow shrinking into a smaller size, Bruce wedged himself between the corner of his room and his nightstand.

His frame was shaking, and his arms were wrapped around his legs, which were pulled up against his chest. If his head wasn’t buried in his knees, Tony could see the tears streaming down his face in regret and embarrassment.

“Bruce?” Tony asks, announcing his presence, “Bruce, hey, it’s me,” He says gently, as if talking to a startled animal.

The other man makes no move to indicate he heard Tony, except possibly curling up in an even tighter ball.

“Hey, Brucie,” The engineer soothes, crouching down to his level, avoiding the glass on the ground. “I’m gonna go come sit next to you okay?” Again, Bruce makes no move to show that he understands the man. But when Tony scoots up next to him the doctor leans into him, still silently crying.

Tony lets Bruce lean on him for a minute or two, before muttering, “Brucie, I need to know what happened, okay?” He knows the general gist from Friday, but he also needs to hear it from Bruce as well.

Unfortunately, Bruce doesn’t have the same idea. He faintly shakes his head and pulls his arms into his legs even harsher, elicing a wince.

“Bruce, I’m not going to be mad, okay? I’m worried about you. I don’t want anything bad to happen, but I need to know how bad it is this time, yeah?” 

Much to the scientist’s dismay, Bruce still doesn’t make any move, with his head buried in his arms. 

Tony thinks for a moment, then grabs the jacket from the bed, without jostling his friend too much. He then pushes the jacket on his friend, and slowly drags him off of the floor. 

Bruce’s arms fall to his sides, and his pants are revealed to be stained with fresh blood, presumably from his new cuts. Now that he’s standing up, Tony can get the jacket on the shoulders of Bruce, but he won’t let him stick in his arms in the sleeves

Rather than taking him back to the med bay, where Bruce spent his first two days almost exclusively, Tony brings him to his floor instead. 

Because of Pepper’s sternness, there’s a heavily stocked first-aid kit in Tony’s room, so he fetches that after setting Bruce on his bed. The entire time, Bruce stays silent and doesn’t even try to protest being dragged somewhere else in the tower. 

Tony mutters soothing words for him, but it does little to assuage either of their fears. 

Shortly after, Bruce starts his chorus of “I’m sorry”s, to which Tony starts his own of “It’s okay”s. Half the time Tony doesn’t even know why it comes out of his mouth. There’s really no reason for it too. Saying “It’s okay” isn’t going to solve any problem, just like saying “I’m sorry” isn’t going to stop Bruce from being cut.

“Okay, Brucie,” Tony starts, after tossing the gauze back in the kit. “We’re not doing to silent treatment anymore, okay? I’m going to give the low down, and you’re gonna listen.”

Bruce nods, finally able to slip his arms back into his beloved jacket.

“Bruce,” Tony says, voice tired.

“Okay.” The biologist answers, internally cringing at his voice, hoarse from continuously saying “I’m sorry”.

Tony sits down on the bed next to his friend and says, “Alright, here’s what gonna happen. You’re either going to tell me what is going on with your head, or you’re going to tell a professional. I imagine you’d rather tell me, and if we’re being honest, I’d rather we not bring a psychiatrist into this building, because God knows that they’d take one look at me and freak.”

Bruce gives a small smile, even though both of them know it’s the truth.

“So,” Tony starts, drawing out the word, “Talk to me or call in the pros?”

Looking down and fiddling with the hem of the suit jacket Bruce nods, and moves to get off the bed until Tony stops him.

“Nope. Use your words Brucie Bear.” Tony sighs, giving a stern look.

Breathing out, Bruce says, “I’ll talk with you.” So quietly Tony could’ve missed it.

Feeling triumphant, Tony pats his friend’s knees and announces, “Perfect, now-”

“But,” Bruce adds, shyly looking up, “Only if you talk to me about your problems.” Bruce didn’t have seven Doctorites for nothing.

The engineer gives Bruce a trademark smile, until he actually sees his friend.

Bruce looks defeated.

It’s the only word Tony can think of that describes his science buddy.

He just looks defeated. Like he doesn’t even want to try anymore, like he’s too tired to try anymore. As if even breathing takes too much effort. 

Tony’s smile falls in slow motion, like a movie. 

Bruce sees it fall, and he quickly ducks his head and gets of the room, barely short from running. He spends the rest of the day in his room, ignoring the world around him.

Despite Rhodes’ and Pepper’s best efforts, neither of them eat that even.

Everyone is a bit on edge since that night, even though two of the people in the building have no clue what went on. 

Vision had since left, saying something along the lines of needing to talk with Wanda.

Tony didn’t bother to try and stop him.

The world started to roll in slow motion for him. Having limited hours in the lab no longer seemed like the worst thing in the world- he could barely even tinker for that long anymore. He ate even less, if that’s possible, and slept through the morning. More often than not, Rhodes would find him on a couch, laying down with a blanket lazily draped over his body.

Since his last stunt, Bruce has reduced himself to something close to a mute, only talking quietly in short sentences. The cuffs on the rattled jacket are destroyed even further, sleeves inches shorter than how they were years ago. 

Sometimes Tony and Bruce share a quiet conversation, usually about science, never about each other and never about anything related to the Avengers, or lack thereof. 

Finally Pepper gets so fed up that she finds the best therapist money can buy and forces Tony and Bruce to talk to her.

As expected, Tony acts like a bastard the entire time, and even hits on her in an effort to get her to leave. He offers large sums of money to her, a private estate, anything she could ever want, just to get her to leave.

Of course, Pepper picks the best, and she doesn’t leave. So Tony slowly, slowly starts to peel off events from his life. He’s still on easy going memories, but it’s quite the step up from laying on the couch all day. 

The woman- Dr Reeves somehow comes in every four days without fail, even when the billionaire bribes her with copious amounts of money. Tony decides he likes her enough that he’ll stop.

Bruce on the other hand, flat out refused to see her the first week. Despite him, Tony, and Friday scrounging up every bit history and evidence on her, Bruce doesn’t trust easy.

Too many close calls with Ross, and Hydra, and SHIELD, for that matter, that honest people come few and sparse.

One day, he decides to meet with her- but nothing else. So for the full hour Bruce sits in silence, picking at his fingers or pulling at the threads on his clothes. Dr Reeves seems to find this normal behavior, so she talks about her own family and life for the hour to gain trust.

She has two sons: one in highschool and one in college, and a husband that was shipped to Afghanistan and never came back. Dr Reeves had skin cancer when she was in her late twenties, but they caught it early, so she had (obviously) survived. She loves cats, but both of her sons are allergic, so instead she often visits shelters to get her daily dose of kitten in. And on general principle she loves animals, so she has a dog.

Between hearing about her life and Tony’s acceptance to her, one session Bruce quietly vocally admits that he also loves animals, and had always wanted a dog as a kid. She doesn’t seem surprised at the words, or pushes anything further, making Bruce very grateful. 

And suddenly it’s been a week since Bruce’s incident, and everything seems to be going okay. A very shy ‘okay’, but an ‘okay’ nonetheless.

Vision writes, and talks of him and Wanda in some sort of an understanding. He doesn’t write about Steve or Bucky, still mindful of the engineer’s fragile mind. 

Pepper goes out on business for a few days in Chicago, and Rhodey gets even more comfortable in his braces.

Yesterday, the sun rose, and then it fell back into the sky.

Same as today. 

And it will be the same as tomorrow, for the engineer.

The world turns so slowly on its axis, that Tony begins to worry. Then he realizes it’s only his own brain that’s running slowly. The thought makes the billionaire groan in bed.

He took his meds, but he still can’t sleep. Tony has Friday dim the harsh red glare of his clock, but thirty minutes pass and he’s still wide awake.

Some people count sheep. Tony goes through every wikipedia article that he’s read.

And suddenly, the world begins to spin at full force again.

The genius sits straight up in bed, before quickly making his way to the kitchen, because Rhodey banned lab time this late at night. 

“Fri, wake up Brucie and tell him to get down here.” 

“Sure, boss.”

“Oh, and tell him that I’m not hurt or anything. Don’t need any unnecessary stress, do we?” Tony adds, walking in small circles because he just can’t sit still.

“I will certainly relay the message.” Friday replies, voice quiet, because she’s learned all by herself that when it’s dark out it’s quiet out. Smart girl. Robot. Computer. Thing?

A few minutes later, Bruce comes into the kitchen, hair nearly sticking straight up. “Tony?” He questions, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Bruce, Brucie Bear! I know what’s wrong with you!”

“What?” Bruce asks, noting how it’s way to late (early?) for this. 

Tony quickly leads him to a chair and sits down next to him. “So I’ve been thinking of why the hell you’ve been getting dizzy and that weird thin blood thing, right?”

“Uh,” Bruce mutters in an exhausted agreement.

“Right. So, I’ve been doing some thinking, and-”

Bruce interrupts, “Tony, it’s nearly midnight. Why’d you need to tell me now?”

Tony turns his head to glance at the microwave clock. “Oh,” He notes, as if he’s just realizing the time. “Well, it’s important news regarding your health, so I figured, you know, earlier would be considered better?”

Bruce sighs and murmurs, “Just next time wait for the sun?”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course. Anyway, so I’ve deduced why you’ve been getting all of these symptoms.”

“Okay?” Bruce prompts, impulsively pulling at his cuticles.

Tony notices it and pulls his hand away, “Hey now, that’s not necessary.” Bruce gives a face, but doesn’t push his hand out of Tony’s grasp.

“You’re sick.” 

“Uh, what?”

“Sick. You are sick.”

“You woke me up at midnight to tell me that I’m sick?” Bruce asks, with an incredulous look, as if he doesn’t actually believe this is happening.

Tony nods vigorously. “Yeah, but not like a flu sick. Well, sort of like a flu sick.” Expecting Bruce to ask a question, Tony pauses, but it never comes. “How long had the symptoms been occurring since before you went to Alaska?”

“Uh, non existent, I think. I was sort of dizzy at the hospital in Fairbanks, but nothing in Gujarat.” The biologist answers, wracking his brain.

Tony looks almost giddy when he questions, “Right, right, so at the hospital what happened?”

Because of the dimmed lights, the engineer can’t see Bruce pale a bit. “Uh, nothing much. A doctor stitched, uh, stitched me, and then a nurse brought me to a r-room- why is this important?” Bruce uses his non captured hand to pull the threads of his jacket, which he seems to be constantly wearing.

“Okay, yeah, but I mean  _ details _ . Did they give you an IV or something? Or a shot or any meds or something?” Tony asks, pulling Bruce’s other hand away too.

Bruce thinks for a second until he pales so bad Tony thinks he’s about to faint. “Oh God, they, they, the nurse, she, uh, she gave me a shot in, in both of my arms, because of, because of the, uh, the, uh,” Bruce starts, breathing picking up.

Tony gently asks, “Because of the stitches?”

The doctor nods. “Yeah, because of the stitches. General anaesthetic, because of the stitches, because of the pain,” Bruce rambles, until Tony stops him.

“Bruce, hey, Bruce, look at me,” Fearful brown eyes meet his own. “Okay, I need you to calm down a bit, yeah?”

In turn, Bruce shakes his head, and now he’s close to hyperventilating. Tony squeezes his hands and soothingly says, “It’s okay now. You’re here, at the Tower, not at that hospital, okay? Whatever happened there happened, but it can’t happen here. So now I need you to breathe with me,”

The smaller man doesn’t reply, but he does make an effort to slow his breathing with Tony. The engineer gives a few empathetic words, and waits a few minutes before asking, “Bruce, I need you to try and remember, even though you don’t want to. When she injected you with the ‘anaesthetic’ did it feel like one? You know how they work with you right? As long as you’re not angry and green, you still get the numbing effect, right?”

Bruce just nods.

“Did it feel like you were injected with anaesthetic?”

Instead of replying, Bruce stares straight ahead, completely unmoving.

“Bruce?” Tony asks, taking a glance where he was looking, only to find the familiarity of the wall. “Bruce, hey, just give me a nod or a shake, or anything, really,”

Bruce’s hands shake in Tony’s, but he still doesn’t make any other move.

“Did it feel numbing?” The engineer tries one last time, saying it so softly that he’s sure even Friday didn’t pick up on it.

Then, slowly, Bruce shakes his head and mutters, “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for the late update, but I got really injured this past week. I don't want to go into details (besides, you guys didn't come here for the a/n's), but it's certainly not the best. I'm still able to type (mostly), but there are days where I just don't have the mobility to.
> 
> So I'd like to apologize in advance about any future late updates without warning.
> 
> And although your comments can't make my body heal, it makes me smile like a toddler getting a new toy!   
> Thanks for understanding <3


	6. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony wants to smash a few things himself, Bruce feels anxious, and a new face shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very Bruce centered chapter (sorry, I love my suicidal cinnamon roll too, just wait for the next chapter), but a new face enters the picture!

Both of the scientists go into a minor panic, leading into the AM hours.

Bruce stis, unmoving and staring at the oh-so-interesting countertop. Every so soften he breathing picks up, but he’s able to get it back down again.

Tony stands right back up, and starts mindlessly walking around the kitchen, occasionally muttering words, but the only ones that Bruce can decipher are “Fucking Ross,” and “Fucking fuck, I’m going to fucking kill him.” It does little to calm the biologist down.

After fifteen minutes both of them are able to calm down a bit, and Tony declares, “We’re getting blood samples. We’re doing something so stop whatever the fuck is happening with your body, sound good? Good. You know what? Don’t even answer that. It’s rhetorical. We’re doing it whether or not you think it’s a good idea, because it definitely is,” The engineer spares a glance at his friend and adds, “Oh Friday, go open up my lab”

“I am sorry Boss, but Colonel Rhodes has prohibited your use in the lab from eleven-thirty to five.” Friday calmly answers.

To reply Tony just mutters, “Well override that shit, because this is an emergency!”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, and continues to sit quietly in his chair, occasionally pulling at the old bandages on his arms, wondering when he should take them off.

“Boss, to override ‘Tony Stark Needs To Fucking Sleep’ protocol you need Ms Potts’ or Colonel Rhodes’ voice of consent in order to enter the lab.”

Tony spends about a second thinking about it before he answers, “Well then wake one of them up and tell them to get their ass down here. What part of ‘emergency’ do you not understand, Fri?”

Before the AI can answer, Bruce looks up and murmurs, “Uh, that’s, that’s not necessary. I’ll be okay until morning. It’s only a few hours, so uh, we don’t have to, um, to wake anyone else up.” His eyes flicker between his friend’s face and the wall, too anxious to stay in one place.

“Bullshit. Fri, go wake Rhodey up.” Then, with an incredulous glare at Bruce, Tony adds, “What the hell, dude? I know that your self-preservation skills are shit, but even getting a few extra hours on this could-”

“Could what, Tony?” Bruce interrupts, surprising them both. “Could save my life? Could help us catch Ross once and for all? It  _ doesn’t matter _ , Tony. Whatever the hell happened to me already happened, and we don’t even know that it was Ross,”

The billionaire barely waits a millisecond before speaking up, “Oh I’m sorry, do you know any other psychopathic assholes who are after a scrawny scientist that turns into a giant green rage monster? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Oh? Then what the hell are you trying to get across?”

“If you’d let me talk then I’d tell you!” Bruce says, a green fist breaking the expensive countertop, before turning back into the pale flesh of Doctor Banner. 

Stark looks up with a weary face and eyes the counter. He tries to hide the natural fear, but he can’t do it fast enough.

Pushing his hands into the pockets of the jacket Bruce mutters, “Sorry, sorry, I just, I, I’m just gonna go now. We’ll talk, we’ll talk in the morning.” Without waiting for a reply, Bruce flees the kitchen to go back to his room. Once he’s in the elevator, he checks his fist, and much to his relief it is completely flesh colored. There’s a scratch or two, but nothing he can’t handle.

Tony, on the other hand, still stands on the kitchen floor, in a state of minor shock. After a few moments he calls, “Friday,”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Keep an eye on Bruce. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course, Boss.” A pregnant pause spreads in the room before Friday adds, “And Boss, Colonel Rhodes is coming down.”

Tony slumps down in a chair and murmurs, “Oh for fucks sake,” to no one in particular. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later Rhodey tiredly walks in. “Tones?”

To reply, the engineer just mumbles something unintelligible, and Rhodes wordlessly fills up a glass of water for his friend. After he sets down the glass and sits, he asks, “You wanna talk about it?”

Tony snorts and responds, “Really Rhodey? Do you know me?”

“Well,” The Colonel starts with a smile, “Can’t say I didn’t try. Now c’mon, have some water.” Satisfaction runs through Rhodes when Tony has a few sips of the water.

“Hey Rhodey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d fucking kill someone for a drink right now.”

“I know, Tones, I know.”

The old friends sit in silence for another thirty minutes until Rhodes drags Tony to the living room on the floor and pushes him onto a couch. Then, after draping a blanket over him the billionaire whispers, “I really fucked up.”

“Mmhm,” Rhodes says, noncommittally, knowing that whatever comes out of his friend’s mouth, he’s going to regret it in a few hours. He’s danced the dance of Tony’s sleep deprived ramblings. At least this time he’s not drunk.

Shaking his head, Tony clarifies, “No, like, I  _ really _ fucked up. Really, really, really,  _ really _ fucked up.” He looks up at his friend, eyes wide and guilty.

“Just try and get some sleep, Tones. We’ll talk in the morning.” The Colonel tries to soothe, 1 AM heart-to-hearts all too familiar.

As if he didn’t hear the last statement, Tony continues, “I’m not afraid of Bruce, you know?” He starts, staring straight into Rhodes’ eyes. “It’s just a fucking reflex. Flinching away, but not ‘cause I think he’d hurt me.”

Rhodes can only imagine what went down before he woke up, if the countertop is anything to base it on. “Yeah, Tony, I know. I think Bruce knows too. But neither of you guys have gotten enough sleep lately, and-”

“Bruce is in trouble.” Tony interrupts, with a nervous swallow.

It certainly catches Rhodes’ attention. “What? Since when? What happened?”

“He’s sick, Rhodey. Really sick, or something. Someone is trying to hurt him, or trying to kill him, I don’t know. I need to find a way to save him.”

“Tones, it’s not your responsibility to save him, you know that, right? There’s also me and Pepper, and Vision, hell, even that Spider-Kid can help.”

Tony just shakes his head in defeat. “No, no,  _ I  _ need to help him. Something’s after him.”

Rhodes sighs and says, “Get some sleep, Tones. We’ll talk in the morning, when everyone’s gotten some shuteye.”

“‘S not safe,” Tony mutters, but his eyelids are already betraying him.

Rhodes slips off his braces and squeezes himself next to Tony on the couch. “It’s alright. I’ll make sure it’s safe.” He turns to Tony and gets a weak nod, but otherwise he’s already out.

Before falling asleep himself, the Colonel wonders how little his friend’s been sleeping, or eating, or just simply taking care of himself. He can’t imagine it’s much, despite his and Pepper’s attempts at helping.

 

~

Bruce goes back to his dark room, lays on his bed, but doesn’t sleep. Panic, anxiety, and fear stop that pretty damn well, nevermind caffeine.

He thinks of the innocent people in Alaska, and the calm hospital. The doctor that stitched him up with a sympathetic gaze and a pat on his knee. The nurse that wrapped his arms in pristine gauze, telling him that it’s standard for him to talk with a psychiatrist. His mute reply, and the being lead to a room.

What if they were working for Ross? All of the ordinary people, but in reality soldiers. 

Was all of it fake? How many of those people knew who he was? All of them? Or only the nurse that gave him the “anaesthetic”? Or maybe she didn’t even know. Maybe it was someone completely different that gave that nurse the needles.

Bruce groans at the thoughts swimming through his brain and rubs his temple.

When the thoughts keep circling through his head and his breathing keeps picking up pace, Friday asks, “Are you in need of assistance, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine.”

He’s relieved that Friday doesn’t respond. 

Minutes, and minutes, and even more minutes pass, until it’s been hours, and Bruce is still thinking of Fairbanks.

 

_ The scientist ignores all of the doctors and nurses around him.  _

_ It’s not too many, only one doctor and a few nurses, but it’s far too many for him. At some point, the nurses deplete in value, but get more concerned.  _

_ He hears her voice, but it sounds like it’s distant, and in a different language. Logically he knows that it’s not; she’s standing a foot in front of him and speaking English, but Bruce’s brain doesn’t seem to get the picture. _

_ He feels his head gently pushed between his knees, and resists. “ _ _ હું મજામા છુ. મને સ્પર્શ ન કરશો _ _ ,” (I am fine. Do not touch me.) he mutters, before realizing his mistake and quickly repeating, “I am fine.” He doesn’t miss the concerned look she gives him, but she does retract he hands. _

_ “Can you speak English?” She asks in a far too calm voice. _

_ Bruce wants to tell her that he obviously does, he just told her that he’s fine, but a small sentence doesn’t really portray fluency. “Yes,” He answers, still not proving fluency, but she’ll just have to take the answer.  _

_ “Alright,” The nurse answers. “I’m going to put this around your arms, okay?” She asks, holding up what looks like a clean washcloth. _

_ Bruce nods, but otherwise makes no indication that he heard her. _

_ While applying pressure on his arms, the nurse asks, “Can you tell me a bit what happened?” Her voice sounds so soothing, tricking the biologist into a sense of safety. _

_ But he still shakes his head, much to her dismay. _

_ She opens her mouth to reply, but before she can there’s a knock on the exam room door, and a doctor walks in. She quietly closes the door behind her and pulls up the rolly chair next to the bed. _

_ Like the nurse, she has a voice like a honey when she speaks to him, “I’m Doctor Anne Miles,” She looks at him, obviously expecting a reply. _

_ Bruce doesn’t give her one. _

_ “I’m here to go give you stitches, is that okay?” She tries, looking at him with a concerned face. _

_ Still, the scientist doesn’t move his eyes off of the wall. _

_ Doctor Miles looks up at him and says, “I need to know that you’re aware of me giving you stitches. Can you please reply?” _

_ From a voice that doesn’t sound like his own, Bruce replies, “I understand.”  _

_ Mutely, he knows that his left arm is now exposed, and the nurse is telling him that she’s going to give him anaesthetic, and that it might feel weird, but that’s normal, and in a few minutes it should numb the area. _

_ He gives nods when he’s supposed to, but he doesn’t really feel any of it. Some part of his brain is screaming at him that he’s dissociating, but he’s much too far away to dwell on it. _

_ Suddenly both of his arms are now no longer bleeding, and wrapped up in pretty bandages. The nurse and doctor talk for a second, but then they leave. Within seconds another person walks in.  _

_ He introduces himself as a therapist, but Bruce pays no mind to him. He tosses some words around but Bruce’s mind only picks out the important bits, “Self-harm...shock...rest...” _

_ At some point the nurse comes back and they both make sure that he gets to a new room. It’s not obviously an exam room, and there’s two beds, both empty.  _

_ They deposit a numb Bruce on one of the beds, and the therapist mutters more words to him. The biologist waits thirty seconds after they leave before exiting himself, unsure of his plan. _

_ He gets about fifteen feet until a new nurse stops him and gives a disappointed look. “Going somewhere?”  _

 

“...going to have to ask you to stop, Doctor Banner, or I am authorized to alert someone else in the tower.”

Friday’s voice pulls the scientist out of his memories. When he looks down Bruce realizes he’s subconsciously scratching his arms. Almost instantly he stops. 

“Thank you, Doctor Banner. Shall I alert-”

Bruce cuts the AI off. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m still fine.”

A few moments of silence pass until Bruce asks, “Who’s in the tower, Friday?”

“Other than you, the following people are in the Tower: Colonel Rhodes, Miss Potts, and Mister Stark. Would you like me to wake any of them?”

The scientist scowls, “No, Friday, stop trying to wake them up. Are you sure there’s no one else here?”

“I am sure. I can identify the people in the close vicinity of the Tower, if you’d like.” Friday answers, voice echoing in the nearly empty room. 

“That’s okay,” Bruce mutters, still not feeling a tad bit safe. He does, on the other hand, feel satisfaction that everyone else is asleep, mainly Tony. He doesn’t need to be that kind of doctor to know that Tony isn’t getting enough sleep.

Bruce doesn’t have anything in his room other than a few spare t-shirts, so he opts to just sit on his bed and fiddle with his thumbs. Of course, ‘fiddle with his thumbs’ for Bruce translates to ‘scratching, picking, and destroying his fingers’ so his digits are raw and bleeding within the hour. 

Another hour passes, and Bruce’s phalanges are covered in flakes of bloody skin, and now even the air aggravates them. He goes to his personal restroom and runs his hands over cold water for far longer than necessary. 

The good doctor spends the rest of the early morning sitting on his bed and thinking of random chemical formulas. 

He doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t panic either, so it’s not the worst case scenario.

Out in the living room on the twentieth floor, Tony and Rhodes sleep nearly soundly, both comforted by the others’ presence. Six floor above sleep Pepper Potts, dreaming about a press conference from nine years ago.

Everyone and everything is alive and well. 

So naturally, something just has to go to shit.

At 5:37 AM, Friday wakes up her creator.

There’s a very familiar intruder in the tower.

Hastily, Tony helps his friend get into his legs, both hearts beating at an extraordinary rate. Then, the engineer calls down a suit and flies down to the bottom of the tower to see the intruder for himself.

The fact that it’s not Thaddeus Ross calms Tony down a bit, but he’s certainly not happy to see the person.

“Natasha Romanov. How familiar this looks. Or should I just call you ‘Natalie Rushman’ while you’re invading my life again?”

The spy doesn’t show any emotion when she replies, “Stark,” Cocking her head she asks, “Do you sleep in your suits now?”

“Well pardon me if I’m a bit  _ on edge _ lately, what with all of these Russian spies coming to my doorstep.”

With a smug smile Natasha asks, “Oh? And how many Russian spies have come to your doorstep lately?”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Tony snaps, “Why the hell are you even here? At - what time is it Fri? - at 5:40 in the morning? Couldn’t wait at least another hour?”

“Why would I? I’m aware of your sleep schedule, Stark.”

Snorting, Tony says, “Well you’d be surprised to know that I was actually sleeping when you decided to break in.

Natasha hides her surprise by noting, “I technically haven’t broken in,”

“You’re in my lobby,”

“Which is in the outside,”

“It’s on my property,”

Natasha shrugs. “Semantics,”

Tony really wants to try out his new rocket launchers on her, but stops himself. “Why are you even here, Nat? I’m guessing it wasn’t for old times sake,” The engineer bites his tongue when he wants to ask about Cap.

“You’re not too far off,” She answers cryptically.

With a snort Tony mutters, “Yeah, not buying that. Last time you met up for old times sake you stabbed me with a needle.”

“Never gonna let that go, are you?”

“You stabbed me!”

“It was a small needle Stark. You’ve been through worse.”

“Whatever. Now this time try answering. Why are you here, Natasha?”

“The world hasn’t seen or heard of Tony Stark for over a month-”

Tony interrupts with a growl, “So you came here to spy on me, just like usual. I guess it really is like old times sake.”

The spy just sighs. “Would you believe me if I actually came to make sure you weren’t dead or nearly dead?”

“Nope.” Tony answers, popping the ‘p’. “How many people are you going to report back to after I cut this meeting short?”

“Honestly, Stark, I’m not here to spy. I am actually concerned about you. Starks have never been known for their great bouts of radio silence.”

Tony rolls his eyes inside of his suit. “Yeah, no kidding. Rest assured, I didn’t get kidnapped again.” A pause sits between them until Tony asks, “Are you going to break in if I don’t let you in?”

“Yes.”

Knowing better than to argue with the Russian Tony flips up the face plate and says, “Well then, mi casa es su casa.” And then opens the door to the tower.

There’s been a few changes to the Tower in the past few months, due to Tony’s paranoia, but Natasha knows her way around it like a second home. She hates to admit that at some point it really was a second home to her.

“Friday,” Tony starts, “Tell Rhodey that there’s nothing to worry about. For now.”

“Okay, Boss.” Friday answers, but sounds uncertain. With a pang in his chest it reminds Tony of JARVIS, and his uncertainty to people. He pushes the feeling down along with the rest.

The engineer lets the suit disassemble itself, and climbs into the elevator next to his old… Friend? Enemy? It changes with each encounter.

When the elevator opens to the twentieth floor, Tony can almost imagine all of the avengers sitting across the kitchen, or slung against the couches. With a quick shake of his head he makes the image disappear.

Rhodey takes a single look at the red head and exclaims, “Her? I put away my gun but I’m thinking that I should’ve left it out.”

“It’s all good, Rhodey-bear,” Tony says, even though he doesn’t even believe it himself. “Apparently she’s here on her own accord - God I fucking hate that word. I’m banning that word from this fucking Tower. Friday, if anyone says that in here go electrocute them.”

“How’s Friday going to manage that?” Natasha asks, crossing her arms.

Grinning, Tony answers, “I ‘electrified’ the floor and walls. Friday can taze people now. Want a demonstration?” He can almost feel the disapproving looks Rhodey and Natasha give him.

“You’ve been coping well.” Natasha notes, sarcasm dripping of the words.

“Fuck off, Nat. If I wanted to be judged I’d call up our dear Captain.”

Feeling the tension in the room rise, Rhodey quickly intervenes, “I’m sure you would, Tones. Now, let’s get a bit of food, shall we?” He glares at the spy the entire time, and walks over to the kitchen.

The engineer can see Natasha’s look at his friend’s ability to walk, biting his lip so he doesn’t start a fight.

As it turns out, Natasha starts it first. “You’re walking already?” She asks Rhodes. Take it from Natasha to be blunt.

Tony snaps and glares at her, “Fuck you. You know what fucking happened to him? He fell from fucking  _ thousands _ of feet in the air, in a  _ metal suit _ . Anyone else he’d be permanently paralyzed. Hell, a drop like that should’ve killed him. So as soon as I got out of the goddam ICU I worked every fucking day and every fucking night to give him the ability to walk. Something that all of us take for fucking granted.” By the end, their faces are only inches apart, so Tony takes a step back.

Only to throw a punch at her unseasonable nice face.

Of course, Natasha sees it from a mile away and easily stops it, with a tired face. “I don’t want to do this again, Stark.” This time she takes a step back and Tony can see her face scrunch up in confusion for a second before she hides it again. “Why were you in the ICU? You barely got a scratch from Germany.”

Tony freezes up, and it doesn’t take a spy to notice it. Hell, a four year old could notice it.

Any possible food now abandoned, Rhodes grabs onto his best friend and leads him to the couch.

Tony does his god awful breathing exercises that Doctor Reeves is hell bent on him doing. Much to his relief, they actually work, and after a few extra minutes he glares at Natasha and says, “Glad to know that I cleaned up any evidence. Did better than I thought I did, if even someone like you couldn’t find it.”

“Find what? Stark, what happened?” Natasha asks, not bothering to hide her confusion. Tony decides he likes seeing the spy confused for once.

“None of your fucking business. You lost your right to find out. And for your information, I got away with a bit more than a scratch from Germany.

Natasha takes a threatening step forward, and Rhodes’ fingers itch for his gun. “Why were you-”

Everyone in the room jumps (save for the well trained Russian spy) when a harsh and stern voice asks, “ _ What the hell is going on in here? _ ” 

Before even turning around, Tony grimaces and says, “Hey, Pepper,” Drawing out the ‘hey’ to make it a polysyllabic word.

“Why are you in the kitchen, and why is she here?” She asks, pointing an accusing finger to Natasha. When Tony turns to look at her, she’s already dressed in professional clothes and heels, ready to face the world as the ‘Virginia Potts, CEO’, rather than ‘Mother hen to Tony and all that lives in the tower’.

Before Cap up and left, Pepper and Natasha became something of friends, bonding in the fact that their worlds were extraordinarily male heavy. Now, though, Pepper shows no sympathy towards the woman. Not when she could’ve done something to prevent a nearly life ending fight.

“Miss Potts,” Natasha starts, putting on her smiley mask on.

Pepper on the other hand, is having none of it. “Why are you in the tower? Why are you even in New York? I don’t care what Tony says, he’s not pulling any favors-”

“Pep, she’s here for her own twisted enjoyment.” Tony interrupts, facing his CEO. 

“Why?” The woman drawls, sending a look of daggers at the spy. 

Natasha sighs and says, “Is someone going to tell me what happened to why it seems so unnatural for me to visit?”

Crossing his arms Rhodes mutters, “Well for one, never in your life have you ever visited for fun, and unless you got a good knock on your head, I’m sure you can remember what went down barely a month ago.”

“I made a choice,” Natasha starts, voice rising at a small but steady rate. “And my I knew that if I didn’t get Steve out of there, the fight would continue on before people got seriously hurt, or worse. I made the most logical decision, Stark.”

Tony slams his fist down on his thigh (he’ll worry about the forming bruise later), because of the lack of things to smash around him. “People already got  _ seriously hurt! _ Unless you call paralyzation from the waist down an easy little injury?!” He brings his fist up again, but Rhodes grabs it before it can either connect with his leg or Natasha’s face. 

“I had no idea that you all would continue to chase-”

“Bullshit.” Tony interrupts, harshly jerking his hand from Rhodes’ own. “If you all would’ve let me explain, I’d point out how the fucking Accords would’ve pardoned Barnes and gotten him the help he needed! But ol’ Stevie becomes goddam blind and deaf whenever Barnes’ in the picture.”

Natasha opens her mouth to respond, but Pepper beats her. “Alright, everyone here needs to sit down, and calm down, and stop yelling at everyone. It’s too early for this, and I should’ve been on a jet ten minutes ago.

Russian spy forgotten, Tony turns toward Pepper. “Wait, what? Since when were you supposed to be out?”

With a sigh she replies, “Tony, I told you I was going to LA three days ago. But I can still cancel, if you need me here,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” The engineer mutters, wondering when he received this information and why he didn’t remember it. “Whatever you’re doing over there is more important than this shit hole called home.” Pepper gives him a look, but doesn’t say anything or move. “Seriously, Pep, go to California. I don’t want to keep you waiting, at least anymore than I already have. Go,” He adds, with a sincere smile. 

Pepper looks unconvinced, but slips past the three to the elevator anyway. 

After the doors slide closed, Rhodes looks straight at the spy and says, “I don’t know why the hell you thought you could just come and ‘visit’ Tony, so let me tell it to you straight: You need to leave right now. If it’s urgent, please schedule a meeting with the woman who just left.”

Natasha sends a deadly look to him but the Colonel doesn’t flinch. “I’m just here from curiosity. The world’s barely heard anything from Stark since the United Nations meeting. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t particularly want to be here either-”

“Great, then leave.” Tony interrupts, but Natasha ignores him.

“I just came because Steve wouldn’t answer any of my questions.”

The billionaire snorts. “Oh good, Rogers is too cowardly to even admit what he did.”

“Tones,” Rhodes warns, not wanting him to spill anything through spite.

Natasha, thirsty for answers presses, “Tony, what happened after Germany?” 

But before he can answer, a small voice from the edge of the elevator breathes, “Natasha?”

“Bruce?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo whooo! A thousand hits and almost a hundred kudos! Cool stuff guys, cool stuff. I know I don't mention it enough, But I really really love all of you guys who comment and kudo. It really makes me smile a great big smile and gives me inspiration to get my ass off the couch! ...Or rather on the couch, seeing as how I write on the couch...
> 
> To celebrate 1000 hits, here's a fun fact: I've lost so much Gujarati that I only remembered the "I am fine." part, not the "do not touch me". Funfact 1.5: Next time I visit my grandmother she's going to grill me on the language lol xD
> 
> Also- fear not! There's some juicy hurt Bruce next chapter! Just hold on for a bit longer!


	7. Who's There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce gets sick, Natasha reminisces, and Tony doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this note is actually important (crazy, right?), because it has to do with the way I wrote this chapter. Basically, none of the characters completely know what's going on, but if they'd fucking communicate they would know. So to show the confusion, I switch POVs a shit ton. The other reason I do that is to show the fact that the three of them have all of the components (Tasha's info; Tony's intelligence; Bruce's symptoms) but again, they fucking suck at communicating.
> 
> ANYWAY, without further ado: Chapter Seven
> 
> ((also there's some c/c in this chapter because FUCK i love shield husbands so goddam fucking much okay im done now))

“Bruce?” Natasha asks, all anger far away from her words. She sounds like she’s speaking in a lullaby, and it reminds the scientist of the people in Alaska.

Tony turns around to look at his friend and greets, “Good morning, Brucie,”

Natasha talks before Bruce can respond. “Bruce is here? Why?” Tony wants to slap that accusatory tone out of her, but he knows that slapping one Natalia Romanova is a death sentence.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s still capable of answering questions, as far as I know,” Tony mutters.

The spy glares athe Tony, but then goes back to her sweet, soft voice and asks, “Bruce, why are you here?” Despite the harsh question, it still feels like the nicest person on the planet asked it.

The biologist’s eyes flicker between the three people in the room and tries to push his anxiety down when he answers, “Tony offered me a place to stay,”

“Why’d you decide to come back?” Natasha asks, sensing that the last answer was a lie.

Bruce starts picking at the cuffs of the suit jacket, trying to figure out the best way to answer her question. He knows that Natasha will be able to evaluate his lies and truths, but hopefully he can spin her in circles first.

When he doesn’t answer Romanov sweetly coaxes, “Bruce?”

The scientist still doesn’t answer though, because now he recognizes the tone of her voice. It feels like the familiarity of a long lost memory.

Or in his case, exactly how the flashes of being the Hulk is like.

She’s using the same voice she uses to calm the Hulk down. The thought sickens him, and he feels the need to sit down, or bolt out of the room.

He chooses the latter.

After Bruce quickly exits back into the elevator, Natasha turns back to Tony and crosses her arms, as if it was his fault that the scientist left. “What happened to him?” She presses.

“I know you’re not used to anyone saying this,” Tony starts, not bothering to hide his snarkiness, “But it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“It’s my business because I care about him,” Natasha snaps back, arms now uncrossed, but still itching to punch.

Before Tony can refute (and undoubtedly make things worse), Rhodes physically steps in between the two rivals and notes, “Alright, both of you, shut the hell up for a second. Bruce is his own person, and he’ll decide what he wants to do and who he wants to deal with. ‘Kay?”

But Natasha, never one to back down from a challenge, just replies, “Something must be wrong, because he’d never come here on his own accord-”

“Stop fucking saying that word-” Tony cuts her off, biting his lip, but she continues anyway.

“So just let me talk to him.”

Tony gives her an incredulous look and exclaims, “Jesus Christ, who died and made you Queen? Since when do you get the fucking authority to go around my tower and question the people inside of it?”

“I’m concerned about his well being, Stark,”

“Yeah, no fucking shit, so am I. Except  _ I  _ know how to deal with people without using my manipulative Red Room training,”

Natasha takes a threatening step forward, and Rhodes pushes them both apart, “Both you need to calm the fuck down, and leave each other alone-”

Tony knows he’ll feel bad about interrupting his best friend later, but right now he doesn’t care. “No, no, we need to do this now. Maybe you’ll give me a reason to why you decided to let Steve leave?” 

“Tones-” Rhodes starts, knowing that this is going to escalate into a fight soon enough. 

“Leave, Rhodey.” Tony plainly states, wanting this to be between him and Natasha. 

“Ton-”

“Leave!” The engineer all but shouts, standing inches from his friend’s face.

After a grueling four seconds, the Colonel steps away from the two heroes and steps into the elevator, disappointment etched onto his face.

The two left in the room stare off at each other, both waiting for the other to throw the first punch. 

“Glad to see that you’re still good at running away your friends, Stark,” Natasha states, fully knowing that it’s the lowest blow, and glances back at the closed doors.

Tony ignores the painful question and goes right to the chase. “I need you to tell me the fucking truth this time,” He starts, a bite in his voice he hasn’t heard for years. “Why are you here?”

The spy cocks her head to the side as if pondering the question. Eventually she looks straight at the other man and declares, “Curiosity.”

“So my life’s a soap opera to you?”

“It’s more interesting than anything else, at the moment,”

“Captain Righteous finally too much for you to handle?”

Natasha shrugs in response. But then she leans in close to the other man, and Stark has to stop himself from reflexively flinching. Natasha then leans near the other man’s ear and quietly murmurs, “How secure are your cameras, Stark?”

Equally as quietly Tony replies, “Better than the world,” Just to make sure, he sends a dirty look to one of the cameras. “Who’s watching?”

Natasha takes a step back and with a raised voice she says, “This is ridiculous, Stark, just let me see Banner!” She then moves in and raises her hand as if to slap him, disguising her whispers of, “SHIELD. Hydra. The Government. Not sure yet.”

“Fine!” Tony shouts back. “He’s in my lab, go fucking bully him if you want.” In reality, Tony has no clue where his friend ran off to, he can only hope that it  _ isn’t  _ the lab.

They step into the elevator and the engineer absentmindedly taps his leg. Except that it’s not absentmindedly. In morse code, he taps out ‘Camera in elevator’. He knows that Natasha’s smart enough to figure that one out.

He stops the elevator the floor above the once brilliant lab, and thanks himself for not fixing any of it up. Including the cameras.

The engineer drops down from the hole in the floor and lands in a pile of dull scrap metal. Natasha follows suit after he moves away.

“There aren’t any cameras in here anymore, I can assure you,” Tony says, kicking a piece of metal to the side so he can reach a surprisingly intact chair. 

The spy nods, but then asked, “What happened in here? One of your experiments finally gone wrong?”

“The Hulk.” Tony plainly answers, and swivels the chair so he faces her. “Alright, I’m pretty sure this is a double, double, double, cross, but what the fuck is happening?”

 

~

 

Bruce quickly goes back to the dark confines of his room, mind singing a chorus of intrusive thoughts. 

_ Why is Natasha here?” _

The scientist can’t really breathe, but he chalks it up to anxiety and paces around the room, fingers picking at the threads of his clothes. Bruce doesn’t know how much time has passed when Friday calls, “Doctor Banner, if I may,”

_ Natasha’s here to take me away. _

“Friday?” He dumbly asks to the wall.

_ She’s always been working for SHIELD, she’s probably going to send me back to the empty room. The empty room, with nothing but white walls, and white gloves, and white pajamas, and white bed, and white pillow, and white rice, and white- _

“Yes, now, if I may, it would be in your best intentions to breathe deeper breaths, or take a minute to sit down.”

_ Or maybe she got a better deal, and is sending me back to Ross. _

The scientist comes to his senses and sits on the corner of his bed, trying to take slower breaths. He watches the seconds spin around the clock and tries to match each breath with four of them. Somehow, it ends up helping a bit.

_ Ross’s room with nothing that’s white. The blades that aren’t sterile, the fluids that aren’t clear, the tables with his old blood on them. _

But even after minutes have passed, something doesn’t feel right.

_ The men with grenades and guns, ready to kill and torture him. _

Perhaps if the good doctor wasn’t caught up in thinking of an old friend he’d be able to pinpoint the strange feeling.

_ He’s going to get captured, just like last time. _

 

~

 

“Alright, I’m pretty sure this is a double, double, double, cross, but what the fuck is happening?” The scientist questions.

“Someone’s after the Avengers,” Natasha says, conspicuously looking around at the carnage of the lab.

Tony smirks, “The ‘Avengers’ doesn’t exist, Natasha. I thought the goddam war between us pretty much showed that.”

“Don’t be coy, Stark. Someone is after the people who aren’t completely human.” The spy easily states, temper running short around the man.

Tony gives her a glare and then asks, “So you’ve come here… Why?”

“I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius, Stark.”

“As well as playboy, philanthropist, billionaire, honestly, it just goes on and on.”

Natasha ignore the last comment and states, “Stark, someone is going after inhuman people-”

“That’s a double negative-”

“And the easiest place to find a bunch of people with powers is the Avengers. I would only come to you if it was necessary.” She finishes, biting her tongue so she doesn’t say anything that she’ll regret in a second.

The two heroes look at each other without blinking for a full ten second before Tony mutters, “So you’ve come to me, to get me to protect the people that tried to kill me.”

“Stop being so melodramatic, Stark, you weren’t almost killed-”

Tony interrupts her by scoffing. “You know, if there was anyone who would know what happened, I thought it’d be you.”

“Tempting me, Stark?”

The billionaire opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by his AI.

“Boss, Doctor Banner is in need of assistance.”

Tony feels his heart stutter a bit, and quickly tells Natasha, “I’ll believe you for now, about someone after us, but you’re going to have to tell me a  _ just a bit more _ . This destroyed lab is the only place without cameras in the tower, but believe me, if someone hacked in, I’d know about it. There’s probably no reason to have super secret conversations down here.” He adds, already climbing out of the hole in the ceiling.

He leaves the Russian spy by herself in the old lab, who sighs at Stark’s abruptness.

“Friday, what’s wrong with Brucie?”

“It seems that Doctor Banner is unable to take a full breath containing all of the necessary gasses in the air. I’ve been monitoring him-”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Tony growls out, willing his elevator to move faster.

“His breathing had not gotten worse until the nanosecond before I alerted you.”

The answers doesn’t calm Tony down. “‘Gotten worse’? What happened before?”

“I believe that Miss Romanov’s presence startled Doctor Banner.”

“Of course it did,” Tony murmurs to himself, wishing he could go back in time, if only to punch Natasha.

A few more seconds pass, and the elevator doors open to Bruce’s floor.

Tony didn’t really know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t his friend sitting peacefully on the edge of the bed, hands awkwardly fiddling.

The genius makes sure to take loud footsteps so Bruce knows he’s there, and walks over so that he is standing in front of the other man. “Bruce?”

The other man pops his fingers and replies, “Hey, Tony.”

“Friday said you were having trouble breathing?” The billionaire asks, talking softly and slowly, just be safe.

“‘S not that bad,” Bruce mumbles, but takes a big gulp of air afterward, completely contradicting his last statement. “I’ve had worse.”

Tony forces out a chuckle and replies, “Given our line of work, that’s not the most comforting, Brucie,”

Not trusting himself to verbal response, Bruce just shrugs his shoulders response.

“You gotta tell me what’s happenin’, Green Bean,” Tony says, trying to internally catalogue all of his friend’s visible symptoms.

“‘S not just anxiety,” Bruce squeezes out between breaths, and pulls a particularly large piece of skin off of his ring finger near the nail. “It’s worse,”

Tony notices it and grabs his friend’s hand to prevent anymore picking. “Okay, good, good start, but I’m gonna need more than that. Is it like asthma, or something similar maybe? Does it hurt?”

Bruce shakes his head at the last question, but otherwise doesn’t give Tony anything else to go on. 

“Okay, so is it like one of the scenarios where you can’t breathe, or you  _ can  _ breathe but you aren’t getting enough oxygen, or a combination of the both?” Tony can tell that he’s jabbering, but he’s worried and can’t seem to stop it. 

Bruce starts to take in breaths using his mouth now, and Tony can tell from his eyes that he’s panicking.

The engineer squeezes his hand a bit and apologizes, “Right, right, yes or no questions work better for the time being.” He then tells himself to talk slower, because panicking right now is most definitely not going to help Bruce. “Okay, can you breathe, as in, are your lungs are expanding?”

Bruce nods.

“Does it hurt to breathe?”

A shake.

“Wait, so is it like you’re not getting enough oxygen?”

The doctor nods harsha a few times, and then takes a few gulps of air in.

“Okay, that’s good, now we have something to work with. My guess is that you don’t want me to call a doctor?”

“Don’t,” Bruce chokes out, and then continues to try and breathe.

Tony nods, but doesn’t look happy about it. “Alright, I won’t, but if it gets worse I’m going to.” Bruce nods at that, relieving a bit of Tony’s anxiety. He then wracks his brain for anything and everything he’s learned regarding lungs and the respiratory system. But when he looks up at his friend and sees the pale pallor of his face, he realizes that he doesn’t have the time to delve into his memories.

“How about some oxygen? There’s some in the med bay. You know what, don’t answer that, we don’t have a choice. It won’t even be that bad, I won’t put you on that much oxygen anyway,” Tony pauses to calm himself down again. He then lets go of Bruce’s hand and stands up. “Okay, to the elevator we go,”

Bruce nods and stands up, but after a few steps it’s clear that the trip down a couple of floors is going to be rough. He stumbles on the next step, and Tony inquires, “Bruce?”

“Dizzy,” He chokes out, and latches onto Tony’s shoulders so he doesn’t collapse.

“Shit, shit, this is getting worse fast. Here, just lean on me.” He adds the last bit so Bruce doesn’t feel guilty, because the other man is already putting most of his weight on the engineer.

By the time the two stumble into the elevator Bruce is wheezing, desperate to get oxygen into his lungs. Tony quickly finds the eyes of his friend with his own. “Hey, hey, Brucie, can you look at me? Yeah, good. Okay, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but taking slower breaths is going to help you. Just, just try and match my breathing, okay?”

The biologist tries to match Tony’s breathing, but his body is still telling him that he’s being starved of oxygen. Asphyxiation is not something he wants to relive, but he may not have a choice. He tries not to dwell on it, 

By the time the elevator opens back up, revealing the familiar floor that’s the med bay, both of the scientists are panicking.

Tony quickly deposits Bruce on a bed, to which he nearly collapses, clutching on to the blanket layed neatly on top, as if his life depended on it. A second later the engineer comes back carrying an oxygen mask in one hand and a tank in another. 

He straps the mask on without a struggle from the other man and mutters, “Okay, I’m not gonna start off with too much oxygen, so you don’t have to worry about that. Besides, pure oxygen would probably kill you at this point-” he cuts himself off, “Anyway, just breathe normally and tell me if it gets worse or something.”

Bruce nods, and a second later he tastes the slightly difference in air. 

“Better?” Tony asks, worry seeping into the word.

“Mmhm.” Brue confirms. He then glances up to his friend and mutters through the fogged up mask, “I think I’m going to faint now.”

Through a field of foam, Bruce feels Tony gently pushing him into a laying positing, and the worried command, “Shit, shit, Friday, display vitals and-”

Everything fades to black.

 

~

 

When Bruce wakes, Tony has several computers and tablets set up in the room, and the lights are off to display a few holograms. He has a chair pulled next to him, but the engineer hasn’t sat down since Natasha showed her face. 

The Russian spy is also in the room, standing next to Bruce’s bed, occasionally leaning over to see what Tony is doing, but her eyes always flicker back to Bruce. .

“‘Tasha?” Bruce asks, and then makes a weak attempt to pull the oxygen mask off.

Tony finds his way over to Bruce so fast that if they were in a cartoon Bruce is sure that there would be clouds of dust behind his heels. He gently pulls the scientist’s hand off of the mask and grimaces, “Hey, no, none of that. That piece of plastic is helping you breathe.”

“‘M Fine now,” Bruce mutters, but doesn’t make any act to remove that mask again.

Tony gives him a look of disbelief and snorts, “Yeah, when I see it I’ll believe it. I’ve seen sheets of paper that have more color than you,”

The doctor cracks a smile and says, “I thought I was getting a nice tan,”

Tony smiles back and agrees, “Maybe in India, but not since you’ve moved in here,”

“I don’t know, I’ve spent a few evenings on the balcony,”

“Sure, in the middle of winter,” Tony chuckles.

Natasha makes a sigh much too loud and says, “As much as I’d like to listen to you guys flirt for the next hour, we actually have things to do,”

Tony sends her a dirty look and Bruce turns a few shades red, before he gets back to business and asks, “Do we know what happened to me?”

Before the spy can answer, Tony responds, “Well, I’ve catalogued your symptoms, and it’s not any usual disease or bacterial infection, or anything like that. Due to the fact that no one else in the tower has gotten symptoms - save for Vision because I don’t even think it’s possible for him to get sick - it’s not airborne or, hell, it might not even be contagious. If we’re right in the fact that you were exposed with the disease when they injected you in Alaska, then it might only affect you and your specific cells.” Tony finishes, hiding the frown on his face by looking back at his holograms.

“Basically,” Natasha continues, “Someone is after all of the superheros with inhuman powers. So everyone who’s completely human-” Bruce internally winces at the reminder that he’s not quite a person, “is safe from whatever it is they’re doing. I’ve spent that past few hours hypothesizing why they’ve gone after you first and not-”

“Wait,” Bruce interrupts, “How do you know someone’s after us?”

The Russian gives a long sigh before delving into the story, “Well, after the war and after the Raft, Clint and I decided to do a few personal missions, rather than SHIELD ones…

 

_...back to Budapest?”  _

_ Clint smirks at her and replies, “C’mon, Nat, you and I both know that if we show our faces in Hungary we’ll be shot on site,” _

_ “Obviously. That’s what makes it fun.” Natasha replies back with a straight face, but then both of the spies turn to grin at each other. _

_ The archer quickly hides his smirk from the pedestrian traffic of the Chicago airport and agrees, “You’re not wrong there. But I was thinking more of a Sri Lanka type of job, you know? Besides, Budapest wouldn’t be the same without Phil.” _

_ Natasha cocks her head to the side as if weighing the options. “I suppose something like that would be good to get back into the game. And nothing’s stopping us from dragging Phil along the journey.” _

_ “Nah, he’s got a new team now. R.I.P. Strike Team Delta and all that. He tells me that they’re good people, but I still worry,” Clint solemnly answers, mourning a part of his life he’ll never get back.  _

_ “Clint, you’re going to worry no matter what. And yeah, I suppose he has moved on from missions with us.” The two spare each other a glance before turning back to face forward on the cheap airport seats. Natasha lets a puse last a few minutes and then asks, “There’s some suspicious shit going down in Norway. Want to check it out?” _

_ Clint shrugs, “Sure. I don’t see why not,” _

_ The Russian smirks and said, “Good, because I already nicked some boarding passes.” She inconspicuously slides it into Clint’s pack and says, “Gate C3, Mr. Dave Lashley.” She then stands up and leaves for the other side of the airport, knowing that Clint will follow her after precisely two minutes and forty-seven seconds. _

 

_ ~ _

_ When the two get to Norway, things go to shit real quick. _

_ Some bastard with a beard recognizes Natasha as the Black Widow, and makes the connection with Clint not long after. He gives a half-assed attempt to torture them, but doesn’t get even close to getting information. They easily walk away with a few cuts and bruises, and a dislocated shoulder on the archer. _

_ The two spies listen to his monologuing before escaping, with the hopes that  _ he  _ gives information away. He’s an ameature, so he does.  _

_ Natasha and Clint dig around the compound for a few days, easily avoiding the rest of Bearded Bastard’s men, and collect more information. Sometimes they’d beat his men up to blow off some steam. Both Clint and Natasha miss this part of missions. _

_ By the time they take the scenic route back over to the rest of Europe, they’ve deciphered a bit of Bearded Bastard’s plan.  _

_ The two sit in someone’s flat, knowing that the owner won’t come back until sundown.  _

_ “They’ve got a solid plan,” Clint points out, reading through notes. “But the real question is how they’re gonna get their powers once they have everyone? Some voodoo shit?” _

_ Natasha shrugs, “They’ve got brains, sure, but no go way to execute it. They’d have to hire a fuck ton of goons to get to everyone.” _

_ With a shake of his head, Clint points to a manilla folder and says, “Nope, they’ve got that covered too. If they subdue them before hand, it’ll be like picking up a baby. I mean think about it, Wanda without her powers? She’s just a teenage girl. Hell, she barely knows how to protect herself from a cockroach without using her mind.” _

_ “She’s technically a young adult,” Natasha mutters while skimming the contents of the folder. “Maybe they do have a chance. But gathering  _ all  _ of the people with powers? It’s still going to be difficult.” _

_ “Not if they do it one person at a time. And because we’ve never had to deal with these people, they’ll have the element of surprise. Or at least be able to surprise us from the fact that so far I can’t tell if they’re SHIELD or Hydra. Whatever the case, no one else knows that they’re coming.” _

_ Natasha makes an noncommittal noise and continues to look over the files. “You make a compelling argument. We can go warn the rest of the team.” _

_ Clint grins when she agrees with him, but then questions, “How? The team is in shambles, Nat,” _

_ She gives Clint a look, but Natasha knows that he’s right. “Rogers knows where his part of the team is and Stark knows where the rest are,” She points out. _

_ “Fine,” _

_ “‘Fine’?” _

_ “‘Fine’, as in I hate it when you’re right.” Clint mutters, but grinning all the same. _

_ Natasha snorts, “Oh please, you love it, птичка (birdie),”  _

_ The grin coming back on his face, Clint concedes, “Whatever. But I’m not going to Stark. I’m honest to God tired of his shit,” _

_ “Clint, he tried-” _

_ “He’s selfish, Nat. We’ve already been over this,” Clint interrupts, slapping another folder across the cheap wood flooring. _

_ Not wanting to get into yet another argument about this, Natasha notes, “Fine. I’ll go to Stark, and you find Rogers.” Clint nods. “But first,” Natasha starts, “Get back to America.” _

_ “Why?” Clint asks, feeling like he won’t particularly like the answer. _

_ “‘Why’, Clint? Tomorrow’s your goddam anniversary-” _

_ The archer drops the file in his hand, “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, I totally forgot. Oh, it’s gonna be horrible, Phil’s going to have this whole romantic thing planned, and I didn’t even remember-” _

_ Natasha cuts him off with a fond sigh and mutters, “Just go, Clint. If you leave now you’ll make it back in time.” _

_ With a nod the man agrees, “Already leaving,” And stands up. _

_ “Tell Phil I say ‘Hi’!” Natasha shouts back at him as he runs through the flat door. _

 

“So do you have the files?” Tony asks, itching for information.

“Better,” Natasha starts, digging out something from her pocket. “I have this,” She holds up a navy blue memory stick and Tony instantly snatches it out of her hand.

“You didn’t think to show me this before? Or maybe, I don’t know, when Bruce was unconscious and neither of us knew what the fuck was going on?!”

Bruce shrinks down a bit and asks, “How long was I out?”

Tony shrugs, but his nonchalance doesn’t fool the other two heroes. It’s obvious that he knows exactly how long it’s been. “A few hours. It’s somewhere between nine and ten thirty because Rhodey is gone at PT.”

The spy gives him a look, “ _ That’s _ how you tell time?”

“Whatever works, works. Besides, it’s not like it matters. I have a perfect internal clock if I needed to know the exact time.”

Natasha starts to argue with Stark again, but Bruce interrupts, “Tony, I’m gonna be sick,”

Bickering forgotten, Natasha quickly grabs the bin next to the bed and Tony lifts up the mask just in time for Bruce to puke up bile.

A few moments pass, and after purging air and bile once more, Bruce collapses back onto his pillow.

“How do you feel?” Natasha asks, slipping back into her sweet voice.

Bruce brings a hand up to rub his eyes and replies, “Like shit.”

Tony snorts and turns his attention back to the messy set up of computers. He slides the memory stick into the port, asks Friday to search for keywords, and Bruce laughs. “What?”

“Ross tried for years and years, over a decade at this point, to find a way to hurt  _ me  _ but not the Hulk.” Tony and Natasha send each other alarming looks so fast that Bruce misses it. “And then whoever this is, takes one try and I’m already incapacitated.”

Tony shuffles near the side of the bed and says, “I’m not gonna let this mystery person do anything worse to you, Bruce.”

But the scientist just shakes his head. “Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter. They’ve already found a way to hurt me. Whoever they are, we can’t stop it.”

“Bruce,” Natasha starts, but she gets interrupted.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s pretty exciting, honestly. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen all my life anyway.”

Tony turns around from the hologram and gives a concerned look to him along with the spy. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you get it? They’re doing better than me! They’ve finally found a way to kill me.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who comments and kudos, it makes me smile, and I love the fact that my writing makes you guys happy. It's just the most wonderful feeling! And this past week we passed 100 kudos!! I know that there's ton of stories out there with tens of thousands of kudos, but reaching 100 means the world to me!
> 
> I love you guys!


	8. Can Something Please Go Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha tries to help, Tony makes a bad decision, and Bruce doesn't exactly get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all- I'd like to apologize to everyone and anyone reading this story- I am eight days late on my update schedule (rip)
> 
> Basically, it started off with me taking a few days off because I was celebrating the fact that I have officially got my therapy appointments down to once a week! (YAYYYYY) I actually ended up writing a ton of words for my novel (yay). And then I ended up getting a shit ton of wrist pain, and had to write part of this chapter with only one hand- which his just as frustrating as it sounds lol
> 
> Anyhow, without further ado- Chapter Eight!!

After Bruce gets those words out, silence envelopes the room.

Natasha is giving him the most pitied smile of the year, but Tony just stares at a spot on the wall a few feet away.

Some time later - as time is now moving through pudding - Bruce figures he should say something else, but then the engineer abruptly leaves, clipping his shoulder on the doorframe. Bruce listens to the pad of his feet echo, then die down.

The silence continues, until Natasha asks one simple question. “Why?”

Bruce has to stop himself from laughing. What a naïve thing to ask a suicidal person. He figures that at some point, Natasha would’ve felt this way too. Hasn’t everyone in their line of work? But he supposes that he’s a bit of an odd case.

To mimic the simple question, the physicist gives a simple response. “I’m a monster.”

The answer resonates around the room like a steel drum in an amphitheatre.

The spy opens her mouth to either comfort or disagree, but Bruce stops her. He’s tired of lies, and Natasha is known for exactly that. “Please leave,” He states, voice confident, unlike his usual unsure and anxious tone.

Natasha pauses, just for a second, but then gracefully exits, feet making no noise on the path to the elevator.

Bruce takes a deep breath of extra oxygenated air, and settles into the comfortable bed. Still though, he can’t mask the excitement of inevitable death. He hasn’t felt this way since the accident, or even farther back, when he swears he swallowed enough pills.

He sighs contentedly with the knowledge that this time is it.

~

Tony goes down to the destroyed lab and destroys it ‘a bit’ more. 

He’s eternally thankful he moved Dum-E up to the new lab. He wouldn’t want his beloved bot to see this, or even risk him getting hit.

Panels are smashed, sheets are broken, tools are thrown, and he’s ninety percent sure he sprained his ankle when he stood atop a weak piece of desk.

Tired of the lab, Tony climbs into his suit, as easily as putting on his shirt in the morning. He mutes Friday, and flies to the liquor store as fast as he can possibly go.

It’s a private liquor store. When the owner sees Iron Man land, Tony’s sure his eyes are actually going to pop out of their sockets via springs, like on the cartoons.

He pulls out a bundle of 100 dollar bills that he keeps with him precisely for moments like this, and shoves them in the owner’s face. “I’m quite sure this will suffice.” He says, and the owner nods - still probably in shock - and precipitously leaves his store.

Tony doesn’t bother getting himself out of the suit, he just flips the face plate and grabs the closest bottle. It’s a peach Matilda, and Tony fucking hates it, because he prefers the straightest, blandest, and purest alcohol.

Somehow though, it’s the best thing Tony’s ever tasted.

Because it’s alcohol, dammit, and sobriety never ended well with him.

Disturbing his silence, Friday overrules his mute and yaps at him to stop, and how she’s authorized to tell someone, and call Dr. Reeves, and Tony begins to hate himself for putting in all of these protective protocols, because he  _ doesn’t want them _ , he just wants to sit and drink in peace like he could when he was a kid. The genius’ thoughts spiral worse than they have in quite some time, but Tony can’t bring himself to care.

To fix Friday’s warnings, the engineer takes off the entire head off of his suit and throws it against a wall of liquor. He pushes down the urge to lap of the alcohol form the broken bottles like a starved dog to water.

He gets through a few more bottles, but half of it dribbles down his chin and he’s nowhere close to being drunk like he wants to be. Mutely, Tony hopes that Friday didn’t tell anyone of his current predicament. He’d really just like to drink by himself. Unfortunately, he doubts that’s the case, given the fact that Colonel Rhodes nearly kicks down the door.

Tony’s first thought,  _ Fucking yeah, he’s strong enough to kick,  _ is quickly replaced by,  _ Shit, I’m in trouble. _

The thought definitely doesn’t disappear when Rhodes announces, “You are a fucking moron. And you should thank the lords that my mama isn’t here to chastise you.”

~

As per usual, curiosity gets the better of the good doctor. 

He wants to know what’s happening with his body.

He wants to know who figured out how to harm him.

He wants to know how they figured out how to harm him.

He wants to know how long he has until… Well, yeah.

He wants to know all of the answers.

First thing’s first though, Bruce has got to get rid of the oxygen mask. So he tentatively takes it off of his face, happy that he doesn’t get dizzy or lightheaded. He then completely sits up, and tests his lungs with a few deep breaths. All seems in order, which is a bit worrying. Probably even more worrying than if he still couldn’t breathe.

Because now, there’s uncertainty. And if there’s one thing Bruce hates (other than himself), it’s uncertainty.

“Doctor Banner, although your vitals appear normal for the time being, I cannot support you taking off your oxygen mask.” Friday says, voice making Bruce flinch a bit.

“Well,” Bruce starts, “Then don’t support it,” The scientist is sure that if Friday had a face, it would look disapproving. “Who’s in the building?”

“Miss Romanov.” Friday answers, somehow letting the oxygen slide.

Bruce raises his eyebrows in the lack of people in the giant tower, but doesn’t say anything about it. Something tells him that he’d rather not know what Tony’s up to.

“Where is she?”

“She is currently in the gym, on floor thirty six.”

“Thanks,” Bruce says, taking off to the direction of the elevator.

As he steps in, Friday asks, “Would you like to be taken to her?”

The man ponders it for a second or two, but decides, “No, that’s alright. Take me to the new lab.”

“Sure.” Friday answers, and for a moment there Bruce could’ve sworn that Friday sounded disappointed. Nevertheless, she still moves the elevator up to the fortieth floor, where the new lab lays.

Bruce mutters a “Thanks,” and hastily grabs a centrifuge, along with a few radiation proof vials (courtesy of Stark), a syringe and needle, and finally a tourniquet.

It’s time to get to work. 

Bruce spends the next few hours oblivious to the world.

After a few minutes of working, he easily falls into the routine he’s been doing all of his life. It’s easy for him. Science, biology, it’s all been his strong suit, even when he was a little boy.

At some point, part of his brain asks him why Tony or someone else hasn’t checked up on him or anything, but he pushes that thought from his mind to make room for hypotheses. Not even Friday has bothered him.

Although at some point he realizes that Dum-E’s been tapping out the lyrics to “Be a Man” from Mulan, which he’d have to ask about later. 

After hours of work, Bruce figures out a few things.

One: The reason why he is being poisoned, or why he is the only one that’s sick, is because the virus attaches itself onto cells that have been affected by radiation poisoning. So obviously, this person, or group of people, know what they’re doing. He figures that if they’re smart enough to develop a virus like this, they’re also smart enough to develop a virus to attack cells affected by the super soldier serum. 

Two: Bruce is almost certain that the virus is mutating inside of his body, thus changing the symptoms as times goes on. Because of this, he has no way to prepare for the future or protect anyone around him.

Three: The Hulk may be affected by this virus differently than Bruce is. The scientist believes this because of two reasons. One of them being that if  _ he  _ was making a virus to keep away Hulk (not like he has haha, nope, not at all) he would make lethargic symptoms. Due to the fact that Hulk was able to nearly shatter the Hulk-proof glass when Tony was in trouble, he doubts that Hulk is less powerful. If anything, he may be more powerful. The second reason is that Hulk is his own “person”. So just by the nature of the virus, it wouldn’t affect him the same way it’s affecting the biologist.

Bruce takes a step back and admires the work of this virus.

The scientist wonders if in a different life he’d be colleagues with these people.

Bruce waits out a bout of nausea and dizziness, and then continues testing his research. At some point Dum-E urgently chirps at him and holds out a smoothing that looks absolutely revolting. He’s pretty sure motor oil is one of the ingredients.

Nevertheless, Bruce takes it and sets it to the side of his work. The bot seems satisfied.

After Dum-E whirs away, Bruce is stuck standing at the two microscopes he set out. After finding these discoveries out, he wants to do what he does best: Run.

Run away from the Tower, where people that care about him live.

Run away from New York, where happy families and people go about their day.

Run away from America, where Thaddeus Ross is always looking for him, and always has the upperhand on him.

Run away from North America where Tony would easily be able to track him.

Run away from any adjacent continents where SHIELD could simply send agents and a threat to bring him in. 

Run away from anywhere where people live, because he gets attached. That’s always been and will be his biggest flaw. 

He meets someone that he inevitably starts caring for, and then he ends up hurting them.

Somehow, no matter how hard he tries the small scientist ends up hurting everyone he ever cared about. Ever since he was ten- No, no, he’s not going to get into that anymore.

Which leaves him with only one way to run away: From Earth. 

And due to the fact that he doesn’t have a spaceship that he can use to go to a planet light years away where Hulk would be appreciated*, he’s left with one other way to run. 

With a handy dandy gun with a handy dandy bullet.

‘Course, he may have to be a bit more creative with the methods of death, seeing as how the whole bullet-in-the-mouth technique didn’t exactly work as planned.

Maybe he’ll engineer a few special powerful pills that’ll even kill the Hulk. Maybe cyanide? There’s some other fun poisons out there as well. Perhaps bleach? Anthrax? Strychnine? Arsenic? Ricin? Maybe a combination of everything?

His last big feat could be finding a way to kill the monster that’s killed so many others. Maybe he’d even be awarded something posthumously. 

Doctor Banner’s final experiment: To find a way to kill himself. He could imagine the look on Ross’ face when  _ he  _ was the one to kill  _ himself. _

Bruce’s thoughts are interrupted when he’s hit with another dizzy spell. After he recovers, he figures he should probably be recording his symptoms. That’d probably for the best, if he’s going to either cure himself, or kill himself.

He glances at the clock and sucks a quick breath in. When had it gotten that late?

It has been four hours since he’s fled to the lab, and no one - not even Friday - had interrupted him. 

“Friday, where is everyone?”

As if waiting for this exact question, the AI answers, “Boss and Doctor Reeves are currently in a session on the fourteenth floor, Miss Romanov is working out in the gym on the thirty sixth floor, Colonel Rhodes is conversing with his family over the phone, and Miss Potts is currently on her way back to the Tower.”

Bruce analyzes the answer for a moment before asking, “Why’s Pepper coming back?”

“She believed that it would be most helpful if she was in the Tower to help.” Friday answers, voice crisp and collected as always.

“Oh. Why?” Bruce ponders.

There’s a pause before Friday answers, “I believe you’ll have to ask Boss that himself.”

As if he was shot, anxiety spikes through the doctor, and he has to remind himself to take a few deep breaths. 

While attempting to take normal breaths, dizziness takes over Bruce  _ yet again _ , which is really just the greatest of timings. At this point, the scientist figures he should probably check his ears or something.

With white knuckles, Bruce grips the countertop near his work and pretends that the world isn’t spinning. He waits ten seconds, but he still can’t focus on something without it turning upside down and back again. Dum-E chirps at him, and Friday inquires, but Bruce can’t exactly answer as he falls to the floor, eyes closing.

Across the numerous floors of the Tower, Friday interrupts Tony’s emergency session, where he’s currently attempting to ignore all of the problems in his life, much to Doctor Reeves distaste. 

“Boss,” Friday starts, and Tony could throw a party at the interruption. “I hate to disturb your session, but Doctor Banner seems to have fallen ill in the new lab,”

She barely gets the sentence out before Tony jumps up sends a dangerous glare at Reeves as if it’s her fault. “Need more info than that, Fri,” Tony mutters, panic and worry etched onto his words. 

“Doctor Banner was working for the past six hours, and his blood sugar as well as blood pressure has been steadily dropping.”

Even though Friday would’ve continued, Tony stops her there. “Fri, I’m changing your protocols. When something like that happens, especially because of whatever the fuck is going on with Brucie, you tell me. ‘Kay? Good.”

“Of course, Boss. But I would recommend going to Doctor Banner at the moment, rather than updating-” Friday gets cut off yet again by her creator.

“Already going, girlie.” With that, Tony heads to his new lab, leaving Doctor Reeves by herself, but not without varying degrees of problems with her clients. 

When Tony makes his way to the lab, he tries to ignore the vial of blood that Bruce hasn’t used yet. He tries really, really, hard. But at the moment, there are more pressing matters. Like the fact that his robot is spinning in worried circles around his friend.

“Bruce? Bruce!” He calls, sliding to his knees as quickly as he can. “Friday- vitals, now!”

“Doctor Banner’s blood pressure has already leveled itself out, and his respiratory system is functioning at normal standards.”

Snarling at no one in particular Tony asks, “Then why the fuck is he laying on the ground!” Surprising him, the yelling seems to have stirred up Bruce, as if he was simply sleeping. “Bruce?”

An annoyed, “Nngh,” Is all he gets in response, but it sounds like music to his ears.

“Bruce, hey, I need you to open up your eyes, big guy,”

A few moments pass, and the smaller scientist cracks his eyes open. Only to close them again, because holy shit those lights are bright. He opens them again, and asks, “Wh’t happen’?”

Looking the other way on the slur of words, Tony answers, “You fainted in the lab,”

“How l’ng?”

“Only a few minutes,” The engineer answers, and helps his friend sit up. 

Bruce mutters, “Oh,” And then looks up at the counter full of his work. “Oh,” He says again, as if remembering what he was doing. 

Tony also looks up at the countertop and bites his lip so he doesn’t start yelling. “You wanna tell me why there’s drops of blood on the specimen stage of my microscopes? And another vial of it waiting patiently?” He helps his friend stand up.

To reply, Bruce just murmurs, “Mm, dn’t touch. ‘S dangerous.”

“Not exactly answering my question, bud.” Bruce just gives a slow blink of his eyes, so Tony takes it into his own hands. 

Making sure that the scientist won’t tip over when he moves, Tony walks on his knees to the other side of his friend and pushes up the sleeve up to reveal a small band-aid on the crook of his elbow.

He gives a sigh and asks, “Brucie, why’d you take your blood?”

“Gotta figure out wh’ts wrong with me,” Bruce answers, with full conviction.

“So you decided to draw your own blood?”

The biologist simply nods, and then lazily leans against Tony, energy drained. The two stand there for a few seconds, before Bruce’s eyes shoot wide open and stare at Tony. “Fr-Friday said that, er, said that, you were with Doctor, Doctor Reeves,” He doesn’t pose it as a question, but Tony knows that’s what it is. 

All stamina disappeared, Bruce starts to sink to the floor, and Tony goes with him, attempting to control the fall.

He sighs and rubs a hand at his eyes. “Uh yeah. About that,”

“Wh’t happen’?”

Tony frowns at Bruce still slurring his words but answers none the less. “Well, you know how well sobriety has gone in the past?”

Bruce’s eyes go wide and pushes his head away from Tony’s shoulder to give a disappointed look. “Wh’t you do?”

“I drank a liquor store.” 

“Mm?”

“I bought a liquor store, or maybe just for the day, you know, we never really got through the semantics of it all-” Tony cuts himself off to get to the point, “Anyhow, I drank.”

Evidently too tired, Bruce slumps against the other scientist and asks, “How m’ch?”

Tony scoffs and says, “Not enough,”

Bruce doesn’t say anything in response, but both of the men know that the silence tells a story itself. 

A minute or two pass, and when Bruce’s eyes flutter shut (Tony hopes to God that he’s just tired, nothing else), the engineer announces, “Alright, big guy, we’re getting you back to the med bay,”

“‘M not wheezing,” The physicist counters, drawing out ‘wheeze’ for a few extra seconds.

With an eye roll, Tony just mutters, “Your symptoms appear so fucking fast, I’m not taking any chances.”

Bruce giggles and starts humming ABBA’s  _ Take a Chance On Me,  _ and Tony tries not to worry. But as soon as he gets the scientist upright, Bruce starts to pull on Tony’s sleeve.

Panic in his eyes, Bruce tells Tony, “M’croscope. Check it,”

The engineer drags Bruce to the elevator and promises, “Later,”

Still, Bruce repeats, “Ch’ck it. ‘S import’nt.”

Knowing that the other man won’t be satisfied until he does, Tony drapes the biologist over the couch in the lab, and heads to the microscope.

Now, Tony’s no expert in biology, but he knows what blood cells are supposed to look like. And he’s ninety-nine percent sure that they aren’t supposed to have little dots of blue hanging off of them. He recognizes the difference from radiation, but he knows that the dots aren’t supposed to be there. 

“What the fuck?” He softly asks the air. “Friday, nobody goes in this lab unless I know about it, kapish? And if anyone gets near these blood samples, tase them.”

“Of course, Boss.” Friday calmly answers from a speaker to his left.

Tony quickly gets back to his friend and helps him stand up. As they shuffle into the elevator, the cataloging of symptoms (courtesy of the engineer) is halted by Bruce asking, “‘Ou didn’t t’ch it, right?”

The taller man shakes his head. “Nope, didn’t touch it.”

“G’d,” Says, evidently satisfied. “‘M poison’s. D’nt w’nt you to get s’ck.”

The billionaire fondly shakes his head and says, “You’re not poisonous, Bruce.  _ You’re not,” _ He adds, just for good measure. 

Bruce doesn’t reply to that, or even make any move that he heard the response. Tony tries to shrug it off, but he can’t get it out of his brain. 

God, he needs a drink. 

Just as the elevator is stopping at the med bay floor - thanks to Friday who brought them there without request - Bruce confusedly looks up at Tony and asks, “Why ‘r we here?”

Without missing a beat Tony answers, “Because I need to keep you safe.”

“Oh.”

As they stumble down the hallway to the room Bruce was previously in, he asks, “Wh’ts that?”

Tony sends a worrying glance toward the smaller man’s curls and replies, “What’s what?”

“That.” Bruce says, making absolutely no indication to what he could be talking about. No nod in a direction, no pointing fingers, nothing.

The physicist continues to head to the room, as if he said nothing. Somewhere along the twenty foot hall he starts leaning against the wall as well as Tony. 

As the genius sets Bruce down on the bed, he frowns at his friend’s habit of biting his tongue, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Boss, I believe-”

Tony cuts Friday out of his mind as everything ties together in slow motion.

As the doctor jets a leg out of the covers Tony realizes that all of these symptoms go together, and their final form is not exactly ideal.

“Fuck. Fuck!” He says, and immediately grabs an extra pillow and puts it between his friend’s head and the wall.

Powerless, he watches in horror as Bruce’s arms and legs each take their sweet time, seizing up. Some severe, some just twitching or suddenly tightening.

If Tony didn’t know better, it would seem that out of the blue Friday announces, “The seizure has evolved from tonic seizure to a myoclonic seizure, time: One minute and thirty-four seconds. 

“Get-” He chokes on the word, and tries again, “Get Natasha.”

“Of course.” Friday answers, and Tony continues to watch as Bruce’s muscles involuntarily jerk.

At some point he swears that Bruce murmurs his name, but part of Tony believes that he just imagined it. 

Natasha nearly runs into the room, and her Black Widow mask falls for just a second as she takes in Bruce. “How long?”

Friday easily supplies, “Three minutes and forty-six seconds.”

Ten seconds later, Bruce stills.

“Oh thank fuck.” Tony mutters, while collapsing to the floor. 

Natasha quickly grabs him under his arms and hauls him to the nearest comfy chair. “You need food,” She tells the engineer, and then pulls her attention to the other scientist. “Bruce?” She quietly asks.

To reply, he makes a noncommittal noise and then promptly vomits to his right side, away from the spy. Or, he would’ve vomit if he had any food in his stomach.

Natasha gives a disappointed look at his dry heaving and sighs, “You  _ also  _ need food.”

Behind Natasha, Tony softly glares at Bruce and warns, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

The small man looks confused for a moment, until he swallows and asks, “Did I have a seizure?”

Confirming his suspicions, Tony asks, “How’d you know?”

Bruce ducks behind his curls and says, “I was sort of conscious. I think?”

Tony shakes his head and yells out, “Fuck!” He turns to slam his fist into the wall, but Natasha sees it coming a mile away and easily pulls his arm back.

“Stark.” She warns, and Tony sends her a dirty look.

He then looks straight at Bruce and says, “You better stay fucking healthy from now on. I can’t deal with this fucking shit anymore.”

“Tony,” Bruce starts, but gets cut off.

“No, you know what? No. Just no.” Tony gives an angry breath and continues, “I can’t- I fucking can’t deal with any more shit.  _ But that doesn’t mean you should run off back to India _ because you think that that’ll help my problems, you hear me?”

“Tony-”

“No running away to other countries, ‘kay? You’re safest here, and we’ll figure every little thing out. Two geniuses, right? We’ll figure it out. Just,” He waves a hand in the general direction of his friend and mutters, “stay here. Don’t leave. Not now. I can’t fucking- fucking deal with someone else I care about leaving.”

With that, the billionaire exits the room, leaving Natasha and Bruce.

Bruce sits up in the bed and looks at Natasha, because he’s not really quite sure what just happened.

The spy purses her lips together in pity and sadly notes, “Oh, Bruce. I never wanted this for you.” She fondly shakes her head. “I never thought bringing you in for Loki would’ve made people target you.” 

Although the pity is certainly there, Bruce doesn’t believe her. So he shakes his head and looks straight into her eyes. He then takes a deep breath and says, “Yes, yes you did. You knew what you were bringing me into.”

“Bruce,” She starts, but doesn’t really know where she’s going with it.

The scientist shakes his head to show is disinterest and brings his legs up to his chest.

Natasha gets the que, and leaves the room, knowing that Friday will keep an eye on the poor man. She pretends that it doesn’t feel like earlier today, when Bruce confessed his urge to end his life.

She goes the end of the hallway, out of earshot of Bruce, and dials the most important number to her.

It rings twice and a half before the other end picks up, and she doesn’t waste any time. “Clint.”

“‘Tasha?”

“Did you find the other Avengers?”

She can almost hear Clint nod on the other end. “Yeah. All but Wanda, who’s apparently out with Vision or something.”

“Did you tell them about the people after their powers?”

Clint snorts, “Yeah. Cap said something about how he’d protect them. He and Bucky, anyway.”

“Mm.” Natasha answers, wishing she could talk to her partner in crime face to face.

“Sometime tells me this wasn’t a courtesy call?”

She sighs and admits, “One of them already got to Bruce.”

“What? He’s with Stark?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe we missed that.”

Clint cuts right to the chase. “Is he okay?”

Natasha lets her hair fall over her face and gives a sad snort.

“Tasha?”

“It’s bad, Clint. Worse than we thought.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Haha Thor: Ragnarok jokes
> 
> please please pretty please don't hate me for that chapter... uwu
> 
> ((also next chapter is going to be painful as FUCK if anyone has read the comics or are familiar with Bruce's backstory than you know the pain. and yeep, that's gonna be in next chapter muahahaha please don't hate me))
> 
> THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR EVERYONE WHO COMMENTS HOLY SHIT  
> These past few weeks have been really exciting for me because of comments and kudos and honestly there's no other feeling that feels like waking up and checking my email to see notifications of comments and kudos (shout out to BookWerm)
> 
> and i know my author notes are way to long xD but i just wanted to say that i love you guys and all of the support you give <3


	9. Memories (Are Shit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce get sick, Tony and Natasha get concerned, and the author profoundly apologizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! Ahhhhhhhh!! My world just slipped away from me for the past month, and I realized that I just needed to post something, even though this is half as short as the other chapters.
> 
> A quick reason why I didn't get any writing done since a month ago: I had three weeks of full day rehersals (yaaayyyyyy...), a loved one was hospitalized (they're okay, now, thank god), school exists (pretty self explanatory), and most recently (the same day as I'm posting this), some asshole decided to use their large range of shitty vocabulary of homophobic and racial slurs, along with some extra mental illness shaming for a cherry on top. Fuck them, seriously.
> 
> Basically, thank you all for being patient and I apologize again. I go to a shitty public school and am taking too many classes, so I won't have an update schedule. I will try my hardest, but I doubt weekly updates will be possible. Also- this chapter is probably full of mistakes and stuff. Sorry 'bout that. eek
> 
> Thank each and every one of you guys for not being assholes, and for not being someone to go out of your way to make someone feel like shit. Much love <3

  


**Warning (IMPORTANT): This chapter has references to child abuse, shitty parenting, and horrible home life.**

**There is also a dedication at the end of the chapter (not in the actual author's notes) that heavily mentions suicide, so please avoid if you're not comfortable.**

 

“Mom? Mom, we don’t have time to go, he’ll, he’ll be back before we have time,”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, we’ll make it. We have to take the chance tonight. It’s better than him hurting you again.” Tears fall from the woman’s face, running down the tracks that started many moons ago. When they curve under her jaw they get soaked up by the scarf hiding bruises.

“I know, mom, I know, but he’s getting home early tonight, we don’t have time. In a week. A week, okay? I promise.”

An eerie silence covers the two for far too long.

“Mom?”

Wrapping her young but brilliant child in a hug, she sniffles, “Okay, Bruce,”

**-20 hours ago-**

After the surprise seizure, Bruce ends up with a feeling he’s not too familiar with. It comes to him after Rhodes comes into the room and asks the doctor a question that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s sick.

“Tony sprained his ankle and then ignored it. What brace to I use?”

The question takes Bruce off guard for a second but it makes sense. Trying to think back, he realizes why the engineer was walking slowly. Stupid, stupid, of him to not realize.

Pushing down his own self-hatred, Bruce answers his simple question and sinks back into the bed. He looks back up when Rhodes doesn’t leave. 

As Bruce gives him a look of uncertainty the Colonel says, “You’re in the best place for all of this to go down, you know that, right?”

He doesn’t attempt to play stupid. “Y-yeah. I know,” There’s a pause, until he finishes, “Thanks.” Rhodes gives a sad nod in response and leaves. 

Bruce Banner feels like he’s at home.

And he hates it. Because home means evil people, and adults who pretend they don’t see bruises, and the smell of alcohol.

Bruce hates it.

A few moments pass until Bruce asks, “Friday, how are my vitals?”

**-Present Time-**

The next day, Bruce wears a long stretched out sweater to school, even though spring is already in the air. He ignores the letter reminding him to go the counselor’s office. 

He’s in seventh grade, and he’s one and a half years younger than all of his peers. But that’s okay; he’s not too fond of friends anyway. 

Tommy from sixth period pulls on the sleeve of his sweater, trying to get him to take it off for a joke involving woolen sweaters still on sheep. Bruce quickly pulls his sleeves back down, and gives an excuse that he’s not wearing a shirt underneath it. Tommy lets it go, and people forget about him again. 

Bruce likes that. It’s easier this way.

When he gets home his mom is cleaning the dining room that is already too clean for words. Bruce knows that his mom cleans when she’s worried. 

Wordlessly, the young boy helps his mom clean.

Because his mother was facing the other way, no one but Bruce is witness to the flinching and increased heartbeat of himself when a key slides into the lock of their front door.

Bracing themselves, the small family knows what’s going to happen when the door creaks open. 

**-19 hours ago-**

“Tony, I said- Tony!” Bruce mutters, swatting a hand away. “For the last time, I’m fine.”

“‘Fine’ my ass. Friday said you had a fever,”

“Yeah, and if you didn’t have selective hearing you’d also know that she said ‘low grade’. It’s a  _ low grade  _ fever, Tony, you don’t need to worry.”

The engineer scoffs, and bites his tongue from snapping. “I have a million reasons to be worried, Bruce!” Tony takes a deep breath to calm is voice so he doesn’t scare Bruce before continuing, “First of all, we don’t know what the hell is wrong with your body, or why your blood cells have blue dots on them.”

“You saw that?” The smaller scientist questions.

“You told me to look at it, Brucie,”

“Oh,”

Tony tries not to think about the fact that Bruce doesn’t remember,  _ can’t remember,  _ half an hour before his seizure. “Reason two: have you ever gotten a fever since the Hulk?”

Bruce seems to understand that part of the reasoning. “No,” He quietly answers, like a child being scolded. 

“Exactly. So, now that my worry makes sense, am I allowed to be concerned?”

The doctor shrugs and says, “Nothing’s stopping you from being concerned,”

“Uh, yeah, except for your mantra of ‘I’m fine’, remember?”

“It’s not like you’re any better-”

Tony rolls his eyes and interrupts, “I’m not the one with a spooky illness that mutates every fucking second.”

Bruce waits incase Tony isn’t done, before answering, “Don’t be melodramatic, Tony. It’s not ‘every second’.”

Crossing his arms, Tony mutters, “I didn’t say ‘every second’,” Bruce gives him a look so he adds, “I said ‘every  _ fucking  _ second.”

The small scientist throws his arms up in anger, “God, Tony! Why do you even care so much about this?”

“Why  _ don’t  _ you care so much about this? It’s your own fucking life on the line!”

“So?” Bruce asks, and the engineer tries to not be taken aback by it. “Ross has done worse things, SHIELD has done worse things, everything and everyone has done worse things! It doesn’t matter anymore- hell, it shouldn’t have even mattered in the first place!”

“Can’t you just take care of yourself for once in your life?”

“Oh, yeah, and you’ve done so well with that in the past too?”

Tony bites his cheek in anger and tries to not let it show. “I’m not the one dying here!”

Bruce scoffs at him. “Really? You can’t sleep at night even  _ with  _ medication, every single thing that’s happened in the world that’s even  _ slightly _ correlated with your company or your dad you blame yourself for, but you don’t take pride in anything that you actually do, you spend hours a day criticizing yourself, even though you don’t deserve it,” Bruce takes a quick breath before continuing, not letting his friend interrupt.

“You still aren’t healed all of the way from Siberia - no, don’t ask how I know - It’s probably been years since you’ve eaten a full meal, and even longer since you’ve eating a full meal twice in a row. Your heart is already shattered a thousand times over, and with all the stress you fucking put on it, I don’t even know how you’re still standing!

“Just because it’s not happening as fast as it is to me, you’re still dying, Tony.” Bruce finishes, nervously swallowing, but staring straight into the other man’s eyes.

As if only hearing the last sentence, Tony replies, “You’re dying, Bruce,  _ quickly _ , and I can’t deal with anything else right now. I- I’m not even asking for much, okay? Just care about yourself for once in your life.”

Bruce, still ignorant to the point, asks, “Why?”

Tony slams his fist down on his own thigh, but hard enough that it makes Bruce flinch. “‘Why’?  _ Why? _ Because other people care, Bruce! I know that you feel incapable of receiving love from people, but people care! Why can’t you just understand that?”

“Who cares, then Tony? Betty hasn’t even tried to contact me for over a goddam decade, all of my family is dead, there’s, there’s just not anyone left! So who cares?”

The two stare at each other for a full ten second, both barely breathing, before Tony quietly answers, “Me, Bruce.  _ I  _ care.” and then promptly turns around and walks away, hiding the tears beginning to stream down his face.

**-Present Time-**

Bruce swears he hears other voices when his father’s booming one demands, “Get me a fucking drink, you useless shit,”

As he quickly makes his way to the fridge, his mom says, “Bruce, Bruce, hey, it’s okay,” But it doesn’t sound like her. He turns around on his heel and looks at her. Rebecca’s face softens and she quietly asks, “Bruce?”

This time, it sounds like her.

But now he’s taken too long to get a drink, because he hears his dad’s voice needle, “Bruce!”

He feels his breathing and heart rate pick up again, and from the otherside his mom tells him again, “It’s okay, Bruce, you’re okay,”

Bruce turns on his heel, to face his mom again, who doesn’t sound like how she’s supposed to sound. “Mom?”

“Bruce!” His dad shouts again, and he recognizes that voice. He bypasses Rebecca and heads straight for his son.

The child tries to turn away, run away, do anything to just  _ get away _ , but now there’s an invisible force stopping him from doing so. 

When he looks down, sweat shines across his arms, seemingly out of nowhere. Confused, he turns them over, and scars line them. They look familiar to the boy, but he doesn’t know from what. He didn’t have them earlier today. 

He looks back up and his dad takes a step toward his mom.

He screams.

**-16 Hours Ago-**

“Tony, eat something.”

“I’m working.”

“Does it look like I give a damn? Eat. Something.”

“Rhodey, this is more important than food.”

“Anthony. Edward. Stark.” He starts, and the engineer already regrets arguing. “I do not give a single flying fuck about whatever the hell you are working about. If you do not sit the hell down  _ right now _ and eat this goddamn sandwich, I will throw all of your work on the ground and stomp on it many,  _ many  _ times, as well as a few jumps.”

Tony turns around in the swivel chair. “Fine,” He concedes, and begrudgingly takes the plate from his old friend’s hand. Rhodes sits down next to him, face full of worry and concern. During the first bite Tony pauses and stares at Rhodes. “Wait. You can jump now?”

The Colonel lets a small smile play across his lips. “Yeah,” He says, “A couple days ago I managed a little hop. Now finish chewing.” He adds with a playful grin.

Tony does finish chewing and swallows, before tightly hugging his Rhodey Bear. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s awesome! Jumping! That’s crazy!”

Rhodes hugs Tony back and says, “You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you-”

“You never bother me. And when you do, it’s for good reason.”

The older man “Mmhms” and slyly asks, “So, in theory, because it’s for a good reason, you would understand that I’m about to bother you to finish that sandwich and go to bed?”

“Nice try, Rhodey. But I need to figure this out.”

“Not as much as you need sleep.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, Tones.”

“Yes I do.”

Rhodes fondly groans and says, “You don’t have to go to your room. Just on the couch, and I’ll be there the entire time.”

“Don’t want to sleep.” Tony mutters.

“Fine,” The other man starts with a sigh. “If you don’t sleep, you won’t be able to help Bruce, because we both know that sleep deprivation declines work quality.”

Tony seems to toy with the idea for a second, before he finally nods and says. “Fine. I’ll sleep. Not for long though.”

Rhodes smiles at him and replies, “We’ll see.” 

Across the tower, Bruce falls to his knees and vomits in the toilet bowl, sweat causing hair to stick to his forehead.

**-Present Time-**

Bruce screams for his father to get away from his mom, hit him instead, just stay away from her. But instead Rebecca gives him a pitying look and says through the other voice, “Bruce, it’s okay, hey, Bruce?”

Rebecca walks up to him and calmly pushes his hair back from his forehead. He frowns when his hair is sticky with sweat. “Mom?”

His mother’s mouth opens and it says “You’re okay, Bruce,” but it’s not her voice. He blinks a few times, and inbetween the blinks he swears his mother’s hair turns from brown to red, but when he blinks once more, it’s brown again. 

When she starts to walk back again, it’s towards his dad. “No, no! Mom stop!” She turns around to face him.

Concerned, the other voice asks, “Bruce?” Rebecca’s face then morphs into a sad smile and his mom’s voice says, “Sweetheart, I love you,” And walks him to his room.

Giving him one last sad smile and the other voice says, “It’s okay, Bruce, you’re okay,”

Bruce wishes it was his mom’s voice. He doesn’t know why, but he misses it.

**-14 Hours Ago-**

Tony quickly falls into REM and dreams of empty chests, metal arms, as well as red, white, and blue. 

He dreams of the desert, bald men, and fire.

He dreams of space, a nuke, and lack of air.

He dreams of airports, unmoving spiders, and falling best friends.

He dreams of red magic, dying friends, and JARVIS.

He dreams of angry fathers, beer bottles, and Jarvis.

He dreams of quiet nights, MIT, and Rhodium.

He dreams of red hair, strawberries, and poison.

He dreams of shields slamming down, and he wakes.

“...ss. Boss,”

The engineer slings an arm over his face and tries to forget his nightmares. “Mm. JARVIS?”

“It’s Friday, Boss.”

Tony groans. “Of course it is. What’s up, buttercup?”

“Doctor Banner is in moderate distress.” Take it from Friday to be blunt.

“Where is he?” Tony asks, sitting up and looking around the room. He pretends to not notice the lack of presence of his friend.

“Doctor Banner and Colonel Rhodes are currently on his floor. Rhodes left hoping you would sleep more.”

Grumbling and standing up, he asks, “Right. How long was I sleeping anyway?”

Friday, not without concern, answers, “Approximately two hours.”

“What a joy,” Tony sarcastically murmurs, and then heads to the elevator. “Bring me to them, Fri,”

“Certainly, Boss.”

When he gets to Bruce’s floor, he sees Rhodes attempting to help, but looking very out of place, while Bruce stumbles across the floor to the bathroom.

Wordlessly, Tony runs up and helps him get to the toilet, grimacing at the heat radiating off his skin.

It takes a second for Bruce to realize who is holding him up, but once he does, the scientist mutters, “I dn’t think it’s low gr’de anymore,” And then promptly vomits, narrowly missing the toilet.

**-Present Time-**

Bruce rubs his eyes twice, and the woman’s face doesn’t look right anymore. It doesn’t look like his mom.

“Bruce, sweetie?” She asks, and now it is Rebecca, voice, hair face, everything.

The child’s eyes widen and he reaches out to pull her closer to him, farther away from Brian Banner, who surprisingly hasn’t made any approaching moves.

“M-mom,” He says, sounding suspiciously like a sob. 

Rebecca smiles at him and with her honey sweet voice, she whispers, “You’re alright, Bruce, you’re alright.

Bruce smiles up to her face, and puts himself in front of his mother, shielding her from his father. 

But then his father takes a step forward. 

Bruce tries to pull his shoulders back, keep his chin up, anything, anything to keep Brian’s attention on him, and not his mother. 

Brian takes another step forward.

He calls out “Bruce,” but it doesn’t sound right. He figures it’s a cruel joke that his parents voices don’t sound like their actual voices.

When he gets close enough to striking range, he can tell his breathing is speeding up.

Rebecca is trying to soothe him, but it’s not helping. Nothing helps when he’s about to get beat.

Brian looks almost confused, which is a first, but it certainly doesn’t stop him from raising up his arm.

Bruce feels his mind shut  down.

He feels his  brain  stop  working.

 

**This chapter is dedicated from my own, Tommy from sixth period in seventh grade. He was a kid who I didn't really know for long, but he was always the funniest kid in class. The next year he wasn't at school and I assumed that he moved or changed schools. Only a couple years ago, I learned that he had actually ended his own life the summer after. I know this dedication isn't shit, but that first taught me that suicidal ideation hides itself real, real well.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and until I see you all again make sure to take care of yourselves, I know that school is starting or has started for most of you (student wise), but health is really frickin important. Take a step back, even if it's only for a few minutes. Indulge in something you love, and keep in touch with friends that /don't/ bring you down. 
> 
> Work hard in your classes, but not crazy hard to the point where you're constantly stressed and anxious. Hint: if you're nearly crying everyday, something needs to change. Don't be ashamed if you have to take one less AP class, okay? Don't be ashamed if you have to take one extra remedial class, yeah? 
> 
> Each and every one of you guys are wonderful and valid and I love you all.
> 
> Wow, this author's note really turned into something else lol. Seriously though, take care of yourselves.


	10. Author's Note

Hello friends,

 

As many of you guys know, the American public school systems are less than stellar. I've been having some trouble in school, so I wanted to let you all know why there hasn't been an update in quite some time.

 

Basically, I'm trying to get a 504 education plan, along with an already existing IEP, and unfortunately, these things take time. 

 

Double unfortunately, I've been having trouble with my physical health as well, including a trip to urgent care at the local hospital. (Don't worry, it's not that bad. I'm not dying or anything.)

 

Thank you to everyone who kudos and comments (it makes me smile), and sorry for the notification of a chapter update, when it was just an author's note.

 

Please, please, take care of yourselves, I know that I'm not the only one the school is taxing for. Love for all that's reading <3\. idk guys. just. <3\. <3

 

On the plus side, I have a 'sneak peek' at the next chapter!

 

"Bruce was sure he was going crazy. He saw a thousand people in the hallways when there was only one, and every noise echoed at least ten times. 

 

He's sure that if he even stubbed his toe, the Hulk would show. 

 

He took another blood sample yesterday. Or maybe it was two days ago? Maybe it was an hour ago. He's not really sure. He doesn't even know how he got to the lab. Didn't Friday put it on lock down? Someone definitely put it on lock down.

 

The little blue dots are everywhere.

 

He's breathing too fast, he's sweating, and he's positively sure that he's going crazy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS-
> 
> Chapter Notes are glitching, please ignore the one below if you are reading this before the next chapter has posted.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, please!   
> <3


	11. The Helpfulness of Local Libraries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony eludes sleep, Bruce does some research, and General Fucking Ross shows up for some fun.
> 
> (And in which the author pretends that gaps in the timeline are totally realistic okay shut up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know my a/n's have been far from "wholesome", but this one will probably be the heaviest of them all...
> 
> Three days ago, I purposely OD'd on meds. Long story short, a couple of days in the ER, a BH and some shitty hospital food later, I'm home. So naturally, I decided to get my fucking ass of the ground and write, because I fucking felt like it, okay? Okay.
> 
> So without further adooooooooooo, here is chapter 10ish.
> 
> Contrary to popular belief, I actually do like writing, and I like writing this story a lot. Unfortunately, I don't have tons of time, but I'll try to write more. Things are about to get angsty as fuckkkkkkkkkkkk in these next few chapters. (Also the relationship will finally happen haha I promised it like months ago)
> 
> Please PLEASE take care of yourself and don't go OD like me it's not really a fun experience so just try and do something else even if it's super hard I believe in you I swear I believe in you.

It’s been three straight days since Tony’s gotten sleep. That’s not important though.

Shhh.

It’s what he tells Friday, anyhow. He’s pretty sure Pepper would have something else to say to that. He doesn’t talk with her though, because she’s fucking left again. She’s gone to somewhere in the US, or maybe Europe. Hell, it’s might be Asia or Africa. 

Tony’s not really sure at this point.

He gets the feeling that Pepper doesn’t really want to see him anymore.

That doesn’t bother him though. To be fair, he doesn’t really want to see himself anymore. And it’s not like he could ever deal with his manic schedules.

It’s been two and a half days since Bruce’s fever finally broke (it’s still not normal, but normal for a green rage monster is all that he’s getting), and two and half days since Natasha’s decided that she now lives in the tower.

Does Tony get a say in this?

No.

At least Natasha is helping find Bruce.

Oh yeah, and two and half days since Bruce decided to leave the safety of the tower.

Romanov spends her time surfing through any government files that Tony hacks into, finding anything that Bruce would be emotionally attached to. Friday does the same, but with more facts and less with emotion.

(Tony doesn’t think about the fact the JARVIS could’ve done both. He definitely does no such thing.)

Along with hacking into top secret files, Tony finds out a few key things.

One: SHIELD still basically exists, but he basically already knew this. Call it a hunch.

Two: Agent is still alive. Tony is not surprised about this. He keeps it from Pepper though, because she already has enough to deal with, and reverse grieving is not really good for the soul.

(Cap would know.)

Three: Director Fucking Ross is still out and about, fucking around with things he shouldn’t be fucking with. Tony hopes to God that Ross is enough of an idiot to not find Bruce before he does.

Four: There’s a special group of people working for Ross, whose names match a certain memory stick that Natasha gave him.

They have a mutual interest. Doctor Robert Bruce Banner.

The secret group wants him for his powers, and Ross wants him because Ross is a fucking bastard.

The group is run by a woman named Silvia Dagny. She has a PhD in physical science and materialistic science. From what Tony can tell, her right hand woman is a radiation therapist. 

Stark doesn’t need to have any other information to know who they’re after.

Silvia seems to have a never ending supply of people that’ll hold a gun, so he figures that she has some sort of endless money supply going in.

Which is where Ross comes in. He’s probably using government money to fund her.

Now  _ that’s  _ something taxpayers should complain about.

As Tony stretches his tight muscles, he looks around his ever growing lab. He’s pretty sure he should get some rest, because the walls are basically glowing.

Some part of his mind tells him that he should probably be getting help from Cap and his people, but he shuts that down immediately. Captain Righteous doesn’t need to be bothered by this. Natasha wants to get Clint in to help, but Tony immediately shot down that idea. It’s not that he hates Clint.

He doesn’t. Really.

They just don’t agree on the same things. Easy enough to understand, right?

God, he needs a drink.

“Boss, I believe I’ve found Doctor Banner-”

“Show me, baby girl,”

Instantly, a holographic map of Manhattan appears before his eyes. Friday zooms in to a library a few miles from the tower. 

Ever the nerd.

“Alright Fri, pull up the mark 68, we’re going to our local library.”

There’s a millisecond of a pause before Friday answers, “Boss, I don’t think that’s wise-”

“Friday, if there’s one thing I don’t want to hear, it’s your ‘I don’t think that’s wise’ attitude. We’re leaving, asap.”

“Mark 68 has not yet been completed, perhaps 67 would be safer-”

Taking of his jacket and interrupting, Tony answers, “Gotta break it in one way or another,”

If Friday could sigh, Tony’s sure she would do so now. 

“Go tell Natasha where I am.” He instructs, and sets off to the library.

Sure enough, after about a second of scanning, Bruce’s heat signature is found. He’s in the non-fiction section, 541.3, to be exact. Hands shaking and clothes destroyed, Bruce has six books on radiation around him in a circle, flipping through the pages of a seperate one in his hand.

Tony flips the face plate up and crouches down as if talking to a small child. “Bruce?”

Before the scientist can answer, a voice from behind pipes up. “Iron Man? Iron Man!”

With a resigned sigh, Tony turns around and says, “Hey kid,” The kid looks like he’s about to explode with joy. God, kids and their enthusiasm. “Do you want to help out a superhero?” The boy vigorously nods. “Okay, can you make sure that no one comes to this section? You can tell them that it’s what Iron Man said, okay?”

“Yeah!” He says, and scurries away after one last glance.

“Hey, Brucie?” He asks, turning back to his friend. “Think you can help me here? Give me a bit of information? It’s been a couple days since you’ve disappeared, where were you during that time?”

Bruce stops mid page turn, before swallowing and finishing it. Tony sighs in defeat. Actually, it might be a yawn. The sleep has maybe possibly  _ possibly  _ caught up with him. Maybe. Probably not.

Tony sits crossed legged next to him, and glances at the books around him in a circle. All of them have to do with radiation. Most of the pages are flipped to some form of radiation sickness or poisoning. Tony can’t say he’s surprised.

He doesn’t know what to say to this, but Bruce talks first, making it slightly easier for him. 

Without looking up, Bruce says, “I don’t know if I want to die,” Tony opens his mouth to question him, but Bruce beats him. “But I don’t really think I want to live either. And, and now that there’s a way, now that there’s finally a way for me to die, I don’t know whether or not I should celebrate or find a cure. You know?”

Tony wants to shake his head and tell Bruce that it shouldn’t be a choice. He should just be figuring out a way to get healthy again.

But Tony won’t lie that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind when he was poisoned with Palladium.

A piece of his mind was always there asking if it was worth it. Rhodey would have trouble getting on with his life, but he’d eventually be able to. Maybe without Tony he’d actually be able to settle down and get a wife and family. Pepper would get over it, even if it took some time. Jarvis, the only other person who actually cared about him was dead. JARVIS would get over it too. He’s programmed to, Tony’s sure of it. Happy might have also taken some time, but it’d be okay. New York would forgive him. ‘Natalie’ would also get over it. That’s basically everyone who had ever cared for him. 

What a fun list.

Tony shakes his head as if to physically rid the thoughts in his brain and refocuses to Bruce. “How about you come back to the Tower? I can help you there, Bruce.”

Still looking at a page, Bruce ponders, “But do I want help?” 

“Boss-”

“Not now, Fri,” Tony angrily hisses.

“Boss-!”

“Mute.” Tony says, and inches closer to Bruce. “C’mon, buddy, we can figure things out in the tower. Ross can’t get us there,”

He ignores Bruce’s flinch when the General’s name is mentioned. 

“If he finds me, it won’t do any good. I’ll die before he can get any good information from me.” Bruce plainly states, and calmly switches the book on his lap for one of the ones on the ground.

“I’m not willing to take that chance, Bruce,” Tony says, and takes a glance at what Bruce was looking at. More radiation sickness. “He’s fucking dissected you, and there’s no way in hell that he’ll get his hands on you again. So just come back with me to the tower. You can take the books, okay? I’ll buy the whole goddamn library for you. Just come back.”

Bruce slowly blinks and turns a page. “That seems like an awful lot of work. I don’t mind staying at the library. The people are nice here. Like in Gujrat. I miss it there.” He says wistfully.

“Brucie Bear, c’mon. Please we can talk about this later, okay? I promise. You just gotta come with me. We’ll sort everything out when you’re safe, okay?” Tony ejects himself from the suit and scooches closer to the scientist. “Whadda you say?”

This time Bruce looks up from a book and says, “Tony, what actually happened in Germany?”

Tony gives a mad cackle and grits out, “We can go over that too, when we get to my tower. I promise, alright? Just come with me,” Tony knows how desperate he sounds. He doesn’t want to force Bruce, but pretty soon he’s not going to have a choice.

“Boss-”

Tony kicks the faceplate and it makes a ‘ding!’ when it collides with the metal bookshelves in the library, but Friday keeps talking. 

“Boss, Ross knows your location, he is currently surrounding the Lincoln National Libr-”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Tony yells, punching the ground.

Bruce looks up at Tony, right into his eyes. “Tony. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

But the other man shakes his head. “No, no, God Bruce, it is far from ‘okay’. In no way is this okay! Ross is going to fuck us both over, mainly you, and the goddamn freaks that he’s working with will get you!”

“Who?”

Tony sighs.

Right. Bruce doesn’t know about who made the non-Hulk proof virus. “Ross is working with this woman from hell who’s basically doing this long term experiment on you. She’s the one who made the virus.”

Bruce stares at him for a few more moments before resigning, “Oh.” 

Tony turns towards his face plate. “Friday, call Rhod- No, actually, don’t do that. Contact Romanov, and for the love of God don’t let Pepper know about this. Her blood pressure’s already through the roof.” 

“Sure, Boss,” Friday says, and Tony lets his head fall in his hands. 

Not a few seconds later did he hear the  _ oh so wonderful _ voice of General Ross. 

He gives a spite filled laugh and says, “Two for one! It’s like  _ another  _ Christmas!”

Tony fully turns his back to Ross and looks at Bruce.

Anxiety is written all over his face, and he can see the veins along his neck turn green.

Bruce looks up at him with defeated eyes and sets his book down. ‘I’m sorry.’ He mouths to Tony, and takes off the ratty suit jacket that he basically lives in. He pushes it into Tony’s hands, and the engineer can see Bruce’s cuticles turn green as well.

Evidently, Ross sees it too, because he commands, “Tranqs, Johnson, tranq him!” 

Tony hears a fumbling with a gun, and he flicks his wrist to get his armor on. The right guantly moves a bit, but someone shoots it, and Tony immediately goes to his anxious filled one-liners. “A bit trigger happy, are we?”

“Shove it, Stark.” Ross bites. “If you put that armor on, we won’t spare Doctor Banner any mercies.”

Tony appreciates the threat, but if the armor’s not on him now, it’s not going on unless he manually gets it on. Damn work in progress. All he wanted to do was calm down Bruce, but in hindsight, taking off his armor was not the best choice.

The engineer hears Bruce give a Hulk growl, and Ross yells, “Tranq him!”

The Hulk might be the only way out of this situation, and Tony will do anything to make sure Bruce gets out safe. So when the dart flies from the gun, Tony doesn’t think twice to shield Bruce. 

His shoulder instantly feels the dart imbed itself in it, and then again a bit under, and once more in his neck, for, he’s not sure, good measure?

Tony feels the effects of the tranquilizers almost immediately, and his brain helpfully supplies the information that these were meant for Bruce. It would’ve put Bruce to sleep, but maybe more than sleep for a normal human.

Bruce screams out “Tony!” And by the end it’s the Hulk yelling it, radioactive saliva flying everywhere. 

Ross is also screaming something at his soldiers, but Tony’s brain feels like mush, and hey, the dirty floor of the library doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Tony would love to stay awake, but it’s been  _ days _ , and he’s just exhausted. Granted, he didn’t mean to not open up his eyes again after a blink, but now that they’re closed, it’s just, it’s just so nice.

Just a quick nap.

Real quick.

Won’t hurt anyone.

After all, everyone’s always trying to get him to sleep, right?

Right.

Goodnight. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, I hope you liked the cliff hanger and I hope I'm not leaving you guys hanging for too long xD
> 
> I'd like to apologize on my less than stellar update schedule, and thank you very much for everyone who takes time out of their day to read and comment on my work. It really really makes my day <3
> 
> Want to chat about literally anything? I have a tumblr uwu [My tumblr :D](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/disappearingknag)
> 
> If you ever think that no one cares about you, know that your friendly neighborhood ao3 author cares <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I hope you enjoyed it and it would be lovely if you'd throw down a kudos or write a comment, they really do make me smile and make my day. <3


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